."  .--:*£'~- 

ITS 


THE  MAIDEN : 


A   STORY   FOR 


MY    YOUNG    COUNTRYWOMEN. 


rV-V* 

BY   T.  S.  ARTHUR. 

Author  of  "  Sweethearts  and  Wives,"  "  Lovers  and  Ilusbands,"  ic. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.  W.  BRADLEY,  48  N.  FOURTH  ST. 

X,  X.  Y.:  II.  A.  YATES,  No.  57  GEXESEE  STEEET. 
NEW  1IAYEX:  M.  BRADLEY,  24  HIGH  ST. 

1855. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 
J.  W.  BRADLEY. 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States, 
In  and  for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylrania. 


THE  MAIDEN ; 


A  STORY  FOR 


MY  YOILXG  COUNTRYWOMEN. 


2051355 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  L 

DUTY   BEFORE   PLEASURE 


CHAPTER  II. 
GARDINER'S  TRUK  CHARACTER  EXHIBITED iil 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  BEAUTY  AND  POWER  OF  GOODNESS. 31 

CHAPTER  IV. 

TRUE    MAIDEN   DELICACY     AND    ITS    OPPOSITE    CON- 

TKASTBD 36 

CHAPTER  V. 

A   DANGEROUS    CHARACTER 55 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  MAIDEN'S  FIRST  STRONG  TRIAL. 0-1 

CHAPTER  VII. 

TRIED  AND  PROVED 73 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

A.  DISAPPOINTMENT 82 


Tl  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A  COLD  AND  CALCULATING  LOVER 80 

CHAPTER  X. 

A  SCHEME   TO   ENTRAP   THE   HEART   OF   ANNA   LEE.      94 

CHAPTER  XL 

CATCHING    HUSBANDS 103 

CHAPTER  XII. 

AN  ENGAGEMENT 114 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

A   MEW   LOVER 113 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

AN   IMPRESSION   MADE 125 

CHAPTER  XV. 

A  SAD   PICTURE 130 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

AN   EXCITING   CIRCUMSTANCE 137 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

WOOED   AND   WON 145 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

YOUTH   AND   BEAUTY   IN   RUINS 152 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

CONCLUSION. 157 


THE  MAIDEN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DUTY    BEFORE    P  L  E  A  S  U  K~E  . 

"ANNA,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lee  in  a  quiet  tone  to 
her  eldest  daughter,  a  young  maiden  over  whose 
head  the  blossoms  of  only  eighteen  happy  sum- 
mers had  fallen,  "  it  is  time  you  were  beginning 
to  dress  for  the  party  at  Mrs.  Leslie's." 

Anna  Lee  sat  sewing  near  a  window,  and  was 
bending  closer  towards  the  light,  as  it  was  begin- 
ning gradually  to  withdraw  before  the  shadows 
of  an  autumn  evening.  She  let  the  work  fall 
into  her  lap,  and  mused  for  a  short  time.  Then 
turning  her  soft  blue  eyes  upon  her  mother,  she 
said, 

"  I  believe  I  won't  go  this  evening." 

"Why  not,  Anna?  You  have  made  every 
preparation.  What  has  caused  you  to  change 
your  mind  ?" 

(7) 


8  THE  MAIDEN. 

The  maid'en  sat  again  silent  for  nearly  a  minute, 
evidently  debating  whether  she  should  go  out  or 
not.  Company  had  been  invited  at  the  house  of 
an  acquaintance,  where  she  had  fully  intended  to 
spend  the  evening. 

"  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  go,"  she  replied,  a 
little  evasively. 

"  Why,  dear  ?» 

"  I  think  I  shall  be  happier  at  home,  mother." 

"  But,  we  should  not  always  consult  our  own 
feelings.  Think  whether  your  absence  will  not 
take  from  the  pleasure  of  some  of  Mrs.  Leslie's 
guests.  Some  of  your  young  friends  will  miss 
you.  I  think  I  would  go,  Anna ;  if  not  for  my 
own  sake,  for  the  sake  of  others." 

"  And  may  I  not  stay  at  home  for  the  same  rea- 
son ?"  said  Anna,  going  quickly  to  the  side  of  her 
mother,  who  sat  in  a  large  chair,  her  face  pale 
and  wearing  an  expression  of  languor.  She  drew 
her  arm  around  her  mother's  neck  as  she  spoke. 

"  You  may,  if  such  a  reason  can  keep  you  at 
home,"  replied  Mrs.  Lee. 

"  I  think  it  does  require  me  to  stay  it  home. 
You  are  not  so  well  to-day,  and  I  cannot  bear  to 
have  you  worried  with  giving  the  children  their 
suppers  and  putting  them  to  bed.  John  and  Char- 
ley are  rude  to  Margaret,  and  never,  will  let  her 


DUTY   BKFORE    FLEASURK.  9 

do  anything  for  them  without  a  disturbance. 
Your  head  has  ached  dreadfully,  and  has  only 
been  easy  for  the  last  hour.  If  you  should  have 
to  SPP  after  the  children,  the  pain  will  come  back, 
and  then  you  will  get  no  rest  all  night." 

Mrs.  Lee  did  not  immediately  reply.  Her 
feelings  were  touched  at  the  affectionate,  self- 
sacrificing  spirit  of  her  child.  But  she  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  having  her  forego  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  social  evening  on  her  account. 

"  I  think,  Anna,"  she  at  length  said,  "  that  I 
am  a  great  deal  better,  and  that  it  will  not  hurt 
me  in  the  least  to  see  after  the  children.  So 
don't  think  anything  more  about  me,  but  go  and 
get  yourself  ready  at  once." 

Anna  stood  in  an  attitude  and  with  an  expres- 
sion of  irresolution  upon  her  countenance. 

"  Go,  dear,"  urged  the  mother,  "  I  wish  you  to 
do  so." 

"  I  '11  go  and  see  after  the  children  first." 

And  Anna  passed  with  light  steps  from  the 
room. 

"  Dear,  good  girl !"  murmured  the  mother,  sink 
ing  languidly  back  in  her  chair,  as  her  daughter 
vanished  from  her  sight. 

Anna  went  to  the  dining  room,  where  fouj 
children  were  romping  and  making  a  loud  noise 


10  THE    MAIDEN. 

—some  singing  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  and 
others  pounding  on  the  floor,  and  dragging  about 
the  chairs.  Among  them  was  a  little  girl  named 
Mary,  four  years  old,  who  was  dancing  and  sing- 
ing as  loud  as  the  rest.  As  Anna  came  in,  she 
became  quiet,  drew  up  to  her  side  and  took  fast 
hold  of  her  hand. 

"John,"  said  Anna,  speaking  in  a  mild,  yet 
firm  voice  to  the  eldest  boy,  who  was  hammering 
on  the  floor,  "  Mother  is  not  well  this  evening. 
Your  noise  will  make  her  head  ache." 

John  looked  up  at  his  sister  a  moment,  but  did 
not  heed  her  words.  He  continued  to  make  as 
much  noise  as  before. 

"I've  a  beautiful  story  to  tell  you  all,"  the 
elder  sister  now  said. 

This  had  the  effect  she  desired.  John  threw 
down  his  hammer,  Charley  let  go  of  the  chair  he 
was  dragging  around  the  room,  and  all  of  them 
gathered  quietly  around  their  sister,  and  looked 
up  eagerly  into  her  face. 

Anna  told  them  a  touching  little  story  about 
some  children  whose  mother  took  sick  and  died, 
and  left  them  to  be  taken  care  of  by  strangers, 
who  were  not  kind  to  them  as  their  own  dear 
mother  had  been.  Tears  were  in  the  eyes  of  two 


DUTY   BEFORE    PLEASURE.  11 

of  the  children.  But  John,  though  interested, 
seemed  but  little  affected  by  the  narrative. 

"  Tell  us  another  story,  sister,"  said  Mary. 

"Yes,  sister,  do,"  urged  the  other  children. 

And  Anna  told  them  another  story. 

"  Now  another." 

"I've  told  you  two  good  stories.  And  now  1 
must  get  you  all  your  suppers  " 

"You're  not  going  to  get  my  supper,"  said 
John,  in  an  ill-natured  tone.  "  I  shall  eat  with 
father  and  mother." 

"  And  so  shall  I,"  responded  Charley. 

"  Oh,  no,"  mildly  returned  Anna.  "  Mother 
has  been  sick  to-day ;  so  you  must  all  eat  your 
suppers  together,  and  go  quietly  to  bed.  Your 
noise  disturbs  her." 

"To  bed,  indeed!  Ho!  ho!  I'm  not  going 
to  bed  this  two  hours  yet." 

"  0  yes,  John,  you  are.  If  mother  is  sick,  and 
wants  you  to  go  to  bed  early,  I  am  sure  you  will 
go." 

"I'm  going  to  sit  up.  If  mother  is  sick,  my 
sitting  up  won't  hurt  her  I've  got  all  my  les- 
sons  to  learn." 

"  You  can  study  them  in  the  morning  just  as 
well,  and  a  great  deal  better.  So,  John,  be  a  good 
boy,  and  eat  your  suppei  with  the  other  children." 


J*2  THE    MAIDEN. 

"No  I  won't — so  there  now,  Miss!  And  you 
need  not  say  another  word  about  it." 

Anna  sighed,  as  she  turned  away  from  her 
brother,  whose  natural  disposition  was  shelving  its 
inherent  evil  tendencies  so  early,  and  began  to 
prepare  the  children's  supper.  When  it  was 
ready,  she  lifted  the  two  younger  children,  Jane 
and  Mary,  into  their  places,  and  th'en  turning  to 
Charley,  she  stooped  over  him  and  whispered 
something  in  his  ear. 

The  boy  instantly  took  his  place  at  the  table, 
with  a  smile  upon  his  face.  But  John  was  not  to 
be  moved.  He  resolutely  persisted  in  refusing 
to  eat  his  supper  then. 

After  Anna  had  helped  all  the  little  ones  at  the 
table,  she  went  to  where  John  was  sitting  in  a 
chair,  in  a  sulky  mood,  and  taking  a  seat  beside 
him,  said,  in  a  calm,  mild  voice, 

"  John,  mother  has  not  been  well  all  day.  She 
has  sufiered  very  much  with  head-ache,  and  is 
only  now  a  little  better.  I  want  to  go  out  this 
evening,  but  can't  begin  to  get  ready  until  I  have 
given  you  all  your  suppers,  and  seen  you  to  bed. 
Won't  you  then,  for  my  sake,  eat  with  the  other 
children  now,  and  then  go  to  bed  like  a  good  boy  1" 

"  No,  I  will  not !"  This  was  said  very  ill-na- 
turedly. 


DliTY    BEFORE    PLEASURE.  13 

"  0  yes,  John,  I  am  sure  you  will." 

"But  I  tell  you  I  won't.  I'm  not  going  off  to 
bed  just  because  you  wish  me  to  do  so.  Go,  if 
you  want  to,  but  don't  trouble  yourself  about  me. 
I'll  eat  my  supper  when  father  comes  home." 

Anna  was  grieved,  as  she  often  before  had  been, 
at  John's  unkindness  and  self-will.  And  she  even 
felt  a  rising  emotion  of  anger ;  but  this  she  quickly 
suppressed.  Turning  from  him,  she  waited  upon 
her  brother  and  sisters  who  were  at  the  table,  and 
when  they  were  done,  took  them  up  into  their 
chamber,  and  laid  them  all  snugly  in  their  beds ; 
not,  however,  before  telling  them  several  stories, 
and  hearing  them  say  in  turn,  a  little  prayer. 
Kissing  each  sweet  face,  she  took  the  lamp,  and 
descended  to  the  dining-room.  It  was  nearly  an 
hour  since  she  had  left  her  mother  in  her  own 
chamber.  She  found  John  still  fixed  in  his  reso- 
lution to  sit  up,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing. 
After  one  or  two  efforts  to  dissuade  him  from  his 
purpose,  she  left  him  alone,  and  went  into  her 
mother's  room.  It  was  still  an  hour  before  Mr. 
Lee  was  expected  home. 

"  Why,  Anna,  dear,  why  are  you  not  getting 
ready  to  go  to  Mrs.  Leslie's  ?" 

*'I;ve  just  got  the  children,  all  but  John,  off  to 
2 


14i  THE    MAIDEN. 

bed.  He  wants  to  sit  up  and  eat  with  you  and 
father." 

"  Well,  let  him.  He  can  go  to  bed  himself 
when  he  gets  sleepy.  So  now  make  haste  and 
put  on  your  things." 

Anna  went  out,  and  ascended  to  her  own  cham- 
ber. But  she  was  little  inclined  to  do  as  her 
mother  had  urged  her.  The  effort  she  had  made 
to  induce  John  to  do  as  she  washed  him,  and  his 
unkind  return,  had  depressed  her  spirits,  and 
caused  her  to  feel  disinclined  to  go  into  company. 
But  this  she  conquered  in  a  little  while,  and  recol- 
lecting that  she  was  to  be  called  for  at  seven,  she 
commenced  making  the  necessary  preparations- 
While  engaged  in  laying  out  and  arranging  the 
clothes  she  intended  wearing,  loud  and  angry 
words  were  heard  by  her  from  the  kitchen,  be- 
tween John  and  the  cook.  Descending  quickly, 
in  order  to  check  the  disturbance  before  it  should 
reach  the  ears  of  her  mother,  she  found  that  the 
perverse  boy  had  been  endeavouring  to  interfere 
with  some  of  the  cook's  operations.  That  indi- 
vidual justly  opposed  him,  and  this  produced  a 
contention  between  them,  the  result  of  which  was 
a  blow  over  John's  head  with  the  tongs,  well  laid 
on,  just  at  the  moment  of  Anna's  entrance.  John 
was  seizing  the  shovel,  wrhen  his  sister  caught  h . 


DUTY   BEFORE    PLEASURE.  15 

arm.  Feeling  that  he  had  been  in  the  wron*, 
and  checked  by  Anna's  presence,  he  let  the  wea- 
pon fall ;  though  not  without  an  angrily  uttered 
threat  of  what  he  would  do  to  the  cook. 

Anna  now  decided  that  she  would  not  go  out. 
If  her  mother  had  been  well,  she  would  easily 
have  managed  John.  But  Anna  knew,  from  the 
excited  state  of  her  nerves,  that  if  she  were  com- 
pelled to  leave  her  room  to  check  such  a  scene, 
it  would  bring  back  upon  her  the  dreadful  head- 
ache and  sick  stomach  from  which  she  had  all 
day  been  suffering. 

"  It  will  be  wrong  for  me  to  leave  her,  and  I 
will  not  do  so !"  she  said  to  herself,  resolutely. 

The  person  who  was  to  call  for  Anna,  and 
accompany  her  to  the  party,  was  a  young  man 
named  Herbert  Gardiner.  The  fair  young  face 
and  sweet  temper  of  Anna  Lee  had  won  upon  his 
feelings ;  and,  in  consequence,  he  had  thrown 
himself  into  her  company  whenever  he  could  do 
so.  As  for  Anna,  all  unconfessed  to  herself,  her 
heart  had  begun  to  feel  an  interest  in  the  young 
man.  The  fact  that  he  was  to  call  for  her  was  a 
strong  inducement.  But  a  sense  of  duty  war  a 
much  stronger  feeling,  and  she  suffered  it,  as  has 
been  seen,  to  prevail. 

Such  a  state  of  mind,  so  far  in  advance  of  mosr 


J6  THE   MAIDEN. 

young  persons,  was  not  a  mere  natural  growth  —r 
was  not  the  regular  maturity  of  germs  of  good, 
hereditarily  derived.  It  was  the  result  of  sound 
maternal  precepts,  and  a  most  earnest  care  that 
the  tender  mind  of  her  child,  in  its  development, 
should  be  moulded  into  a  right  form.  Early  had 
Mrs.  Lee  taught  her  first-born  the  highest  and 
best  lesson  a  human  being  can  learn — to  imi- 
tate God  in  seeking  to  bless  others.  She  had 
taught  her  to  deny  herself,  and  to  study  to  do 
good  in  all  the  relations  of  life.  It  is  true,  that 
the  mother  had  a  sweet  temper  to  mould  5  and  a 
natural  ground  of  good  from  which  quickly  sprung 
into  existence  the  seed  she  scattered  with  a  liberal 
hand.  Still,  Anna  had  her  own  trials — her  own 
struggles  against  her  natural  evils,  that  would  lift 
their  deformed  heads  often  and  suddenly,  causing 
her  exquisite  pain  of  mind.  But  such  tempta- 
tions, and  the  consequent  disturbed  state,  were 
good  for  her.  They  made  her  humbly  conscious, 
that  in  herself,  she  was  weakness  and  evil,  and 
that  only  by  resisting  evil  daily  and  hourly,  could 
she  rise  into  true  moral  strength  and  beauty.  And 
it  was  because  she  thus,  in  conscious  weakness, 
strove  against  all  that  was  not  pure,  and  good,  and 
innocent  in  herself,  that  she  grew  daily  purer, 
better  and  more  innocent. 


DUTY   BEFORE    PLEASURE.  17 

After  fully  deciding  in  her  own  mi»d  that  it 
was  her  duty  to  remain  at  home  with  her  mother, 
who  was  not  in  a  state  to  see  after  any  of  the 
children,  should  they  awake  and  cry,  as  was  often 
the  case,  and  need  attention,  she  went  into  her 
chamber  and  said, 

"  I  believe,  mother,  I  will  remain  at  home  th',s 
evening.  I  shall  not  feel  happy  if  I  go  out,  and 
my  unhappiness  will  arise  from  a  consciousness 
of  not  having  done  right.  Do  not  urge  me,  for  I 
believe  to  go  would  be  wrong." 

"  If  you  feel  so,  Anna,  I  will  not  say  one  word. 
Though  I  cannot  but  be  grieved  to  think  that  you 
are  deprived  of  the  pleasure  you  would  have  had 
at  Mrs.  Leslie's." 

"  Not  more  than  I  shall  gain  at  home,  mother. 
Young  as  I  am,  I  have  many  times  proved  the 
truth  of  what  I  have  often  heard  you  say — that 
the  highest  pleasure  we  ever  have,  is  that  inward 
peace  which  we  all  feel  when  we  have  denied 
ourselves  some  promised  gratification  for  the  sake 
of  doing  good  to  others." 

The  mother's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  turned 
them  upon  her  daughter.  She  looked,  but  did  not 
spt;ak  the  pleasure  she  felt. 

A  domestic  came  in  at  the  moment,  and  said 
that  a  gentleman  had  called  for  Anna. 
2* 


18  THE    MAIDEN. 

"Mr.  Gardiner,  I  suppose,"  Anna  said,  as  she 
arose  and  left  the  room. 

It  was  Mr.  Gardiner,  whom  she  found  in  the 
parlour. 

"  Good  evening,  Miss  Lee !"  he  said,  in  a  slight 
ly  disappointed  tone,  as  Anna  came  in.     "Are 
you  not  going  to  Mrs.  Leslie's  ?" 

•*  No,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  sorry  that  you  have 
been  at  the  trouble  to  call  for  me.  Mother  has 
been  quite  unwell  all  day,  and  I  do  not  think  I 
ought  to  leave  her." 

"So  you  do  not  intend  going?"  This  was 
spoken  in  a  still  more  disappointed  voice. 

"  No,  I  cannot  go  to-night.  It  would  be  wrong 
for  me  to  leave  my  mother,  and  I  try  never  to  do 
anything  that  I  clearly  see  to  be  wrong." 

But  this  noble-minded  declaration  did  not  awa- 
ken in  the  breast  of  Gardiner  a  responsive  admira- 
tion. He  was  disappointed,  and  he  could  not 
conceal  the  feeling. 

After  sitting  for  about  ten  minutes,  the  young 
man  went  away.  The  interview  was  not  pleasant 
to  either  of  them.  To  stay  at  home  from  a  party 
just  because  her  mother  was  not  very  well,  he 
considered  rather  a  stretch  of  filial  duty ;  and 
she,  perceiving  the  true  character  of  his  thoughts, 
shrunk  from  him  instinctively. 


DUTY    BEFORE    PLEASURE.  19 

From  that  time,  Anna  received  his  attentions 
with  embarrassment.  She  did  not  reason  much 
about  it.  She  only  felt  repulsed.  And  that  all 
this  was  right,  will  be  seen  in  the  next  chapter. 

Shortly  after  Gardiner  left,  Mr.  Lee  came  home. 
Anna  was  still  sitting  in  the  parlour,  in  a  musing 
attitude. 

"Why,  how  is  this,  Anna?  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  Mrs.  Leslie's  to-night,"  he  said 
with  kind  interest,  sitting  down  by  her  side. 

"And  so  I  was.  But  you  know  mother  has 
had  a  sick  head-ache  all  day." 

"  Yes.     How  is  she  to-night  ?" 

"  She 's  a  great  deal  better." 

"  Then  why  couldn't  you  go  ?" 

"  Because  the  children  are  very  apt  to  get  fret- 
ful and  troublesome,  and  sometimes  won't  let  any 
one  see  them  to  bed  but  mother  or  me.  So  I  thought 
it  best  to  give  them  their  suppers  first,  and  get 
them  quietly  put  away  for  the  night.  After  that 
was  done  I  began  to  fear  that  they  might  wake 
up,  as  is  often  the  case,  and  require  attention ;  and 
I  knew  if  mother  went  to  see  to  them,  her  head- 
ache would  return.  She  needs  quiet  and  rest. 
These  will  be  everything  to  her.  If  I  had  gone 
out,  and  anything  had  occurred  on  account  of  my 


20  THE    MAIDEN 

absence,  to  bring  back  her  illness,  I  should  have 
felt  very  unhappy  indeed." 

"  You  have  done  right,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Lee, 
kissing  affectionately  the  fair  cheek  of  his  daughter. 
"  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  been  deprived  of  the 
enjoyment  you  would  have  had  at  Mrs.  Leslie's ; 
but  it  is  all  for  the  best.  Even  in  the  least  things 
of  our  life,  as  I  have  often  before  told  you,  there 
is  a  Providence." 

"  I  believe  it,  father.  Already  it  has  occurred 
to  me,  that  it  is  for  some  good  that  I  have  been 
prevented  from  going  this  evening." 

"  It  doubtless  is,  my  child,"  returned  Mr.  Lee. 
"  Good  alvrays  springs  from  a  denial  of  ourselves 
in  order  to  benefit  others.  Ever  think  thus — ever 
act  thus — and  ministering  angels  will  draw  near 
to  you,  and  guard  you  from  evil." 

Mr.  Lee's  voice  trembled  slightly  as  he  said  this. 

"  But  I  must  go  up  and  see  your  mother,"  he 
added,  and  turning  from  Ama,  he  ascended  to 
Mrs.  Lee's  chamber. 


CHAPTER  H. 

GARDINER    S    TRUE    CHARACTER    EXHI- 
BITED. 

ON  the  evening  previous  to  that  on  which  our 
story  opens,  three  or  four  young  men  were  seated 
around  a  table  in  a  public  house,  upon  which  were 
glasses,  decanters  and  cigars.  They  were  engaged 
in  playing  cards,  smoking  and  drinking.  Among 
them  was  Herbert  Gardiner. 

After  playing  at  whist  for  an  hour,  during 
which  time  several  five  dollar  bills  were  lost  and 
won,  cards  were  thrown  aside. 

"  Give  us  a  song,  Gardiner.  You  have  been 
winner  to-night,  and  must  be  in  a  singing  hu- 
mour," said  one  of  the  company. 

"  Let 's  have  another  drink  first,"  returned  Gar- 
diner. 

Glasses  were  filled,  and  drained  to  the  bottom. 

"  Now  for  the  song." 

It  was  given  in  quite  a  spirited  style,  but  we 
cannot  repeat  it  here.  It  would  be  a  blot  upon 
our  pagrs 


22  THE  MAIDEN. 

Bravos  followed  the  song,  and  another  was  called 
for. 

Gardiner  sang  again  without  hesitation.  But, 
as  before,  his  song  was  grossly  indelicate. 

"  How  would  you  like  a  certain  young  lady  to 
hear  you  sing  that  ?"  asked  one  of  the  party,  look- 
ing into  the  face  of  Gardiner  with  a  mischievous 
smile. 

"  What  young  lady  do  you  mean  V 

"  That  very  modest  looking  one,  by  whose  side 
you  kept  so  close  at  Mrs.  Farnham's  last  week." 

"  I  don't  take." 

"You  don't?" 

«  No." 

"  You  're  dull." 

"  Not  I.     Speak  out  plain." 

"  Miss  Lee." 

"  Oh  dear !"  And  Gardiner  tossed  his  head  half 
contemptuously. 

"  Why  I  thought  you  were  in  love  with  the 
girl  1"  remarked  one  of  the  company. 

"  Indeed !  Did  you  suspect  me  of  such  a  weak- 
ness ?  Really !  I  fed  complimented." 

There  was  something  in  the  face  of  Gardiner 
that  belied  his  words.  His  companions  noticed 
this,  and  rallied  him  more  strongly. 

"  He 's  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  her ' 


GARDINER'S  TRUE  CHARACTER.  23 

Ha !  ha !  See  his  fj>ce !  He  blushes,  absolutely ! 
Gardiner  blush !  That  is  a  phenomenon !" 

"  Not  quite,"  returned  the  rallied  individual, 
regaining  the  self-possession  he  had  momentarily 
lost.  "  I  believe  that  is  a  folly  of  which  I  have 
never  yet  been  guilty.  But  come,  gentlemen,  let 
us  be  serious  about  this  matter.  You  charge  me 
with  being  in  love  with  a  certain  Miss  Lee.  Now 
for  the  proofs  ?" 

"  You  pay  particular  attention  to  her." 

"  Granted !  But  what  does  that  prove  ?  I  pay 
particular  attention  to  some  dozen  others.  You 
must  bring  forward  something  more  conclusive." 

"  You  were  by  her  side  nearly  all  the  evening, 
at  Mrs.  Farnham's." 

"  Because  she  seemed  so  pleased  with  my  con- 
versation that  I  couldn't  find  it  in  my  heart  to 
•weak  away  from  her." 

"  Oh  dear !" 

"  A  fact." 

"  Then  the  girl 's  in  love  with  you." 

"  That 's  another  matter  altogether."  And  the 
young  man  lifted  his  hands  and  eyebrows  in  mock 
surprise.  "I'm  sorry  for  her.  But  it  is  a  weak- 
less  peculiar  to  her  sex." 

"Aintyou  flattered?' 

"  Exceedingly." 


24  THE   MAIDEN. 

"  She  's  a  right  nice  little  girl,  Gardiner.  I'd 
advise  you  follow  up  the  impression  you  have 
made." 

"  I  believe  I  will." 

"  Do." 

"  I  will." 

"Ha!  ha!  That's  right.  Hurrah  for  Gardi- 
ner !  — Let 's  drink  to  his  success." 

"  Fill  the  glasses." 

"  Here 's  to  Anna  Lee !" 

"Aye,  aye." 

"  Xow  for  Herbert  Gardiner." 

The  glasses  were  again  drained. 

"  And  now  for  the  safe  termination  of  the  pro- 
posed courtship." 

"  No,  no." 

"  What  then  ?» 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gardiner.     A-hem !" 

"  Oh !  aye !  that 's  it.     Fill  up  the  glasses." 

Very  soon  the  whole  party  were,  what  is  vul- 
garly called — "pretty  well  in  for  it."  More  songs 
were  demanded  and  sung.  They  were  scandal- 
ously obscene. 

An  hour  longer  was  spent  by  these  foolish 
young  men  in  drinking,  singing  songs,  and  telling 
vulgar  stories,  when  they  separated. 

Let  the  reader  think  of  Anna  Lee  as  she  really 


CARDIXER'S  TRUE  CHARACTER.  25 

was,  a  pure  minded  maiden — one  whose  imagina- 
tion had  never  been  shocked  with  the  picture  of 
a  scene  similar  to  that  which  we  have  just  de- 
scribed— one  whose  heart  would  have  shrunk 
away  and  trembled  could  she  have  witnessed  such 
a  scene,  —  and  then  think  of  Herbert  Gardiner  as 
a  lover ;  for  such,  he  in  reality  began  to  consider 
himself.  And  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  he  had 
made  some  impression  upon  her  feelings  —  that 
she  felt  more  than  an  ordinary  satisfaction  when 
he  was  by  her  side.  Does  any  one  feel  pleasure 
at  the  thought  of  Anna  Lee  marrying  Herbert 
Gardiner  ?  Does  any  one  believe  that  he  could 
make  her  happy?  Her  mind  essentially  pure — 
his  mind  essentially  impure.  She  finding  her 
highest  delight  in  doing  good  to  others — he  in 
gratifying  himself.  She  looking  upward  towards 
the  fountain  of  light  and  love  —  he  downward 
toward  things  sensual  and  corporeal.  Her  spirits 
in  the  rising  scale — his  in  that  which  is  descend- 
ing. Shall  they  join  hands,  and  go  side  by  side 
on  life's  journey  together  ?  God  forbid ! 

Gardiner  had  seen  Anna  a  few  evenings  previ- 
ous to  the  one  on  which  the  reader  has  seen  him 
with  his  gay  companions,  and  had  then  promised 
to  call  for  her,  and  go  with  her  to  Mrs.  Leslie's. 

3 


26  THE    MAIDEN. 

He  did  call,  as  has  been  seen,  and  went  away, 
feeling  disappointed  and  half  angry  with  Anna. 

"  Too  bad !"  he  could  not  help  saying  half 
aloud,  as  he  turned  from  Mr.  Lee's  door.  "  The 
silly  girl !  To  let  such  a  trifling  matter  keep  her 
at  home.  I  don't  believe  she  cares  a  fig  for  me, 
or  she  would  have  gone  to  the  party,  after  I  called 
for  her,  if  the  old  Harry  himself  had  stood  in  her 
way." 

"  I  don't  see  your  flame  here,"  whispered  one 
of  Gardiner's  companions  to  the  young  man,  com- 
ing to  his  side  soon  after  he  had  made  his  appear- 
ance at  Mrs.  Leslie's. 

"No.  Devil  take  the  luck!  She  wouldn't 
come !" 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  Her  mamma 's  sick." 

"  You  don't  tell  me  so." 

"  It 's  a  fact." 

"  And  she  stays  away  on  that  account." 

"  So  she  says." 

"  Do  you  believe  her  1" 

"  Yes.     I  suppose  she  gave  the  true  reason." 

"  Not  a  word  of  it.     She  meant  to  cut  you  ?" 

"  Cut  me  ?"  in  surprise.  "  Anna  Lee  cut  me  1 
You  must  be  joking !" 


GARDINER'S  TRLTE  CHARACTER.  27 

"No.  These  girls  are  queer  creatures,  some- 
times." 

"  Humph !  I  'm  not  afraid.  She 's  to  be  wooed 
and  won  right  easily." 

"  You  think  so  ?  Well,  success  to  your  suit. 
She  is  one  of  the  sweetest  girls  I  have  ever  met. 
She  has  not  her  equal  here  for  beauty,  grace,  and 
sweetness  of  manner." 

"  You  are  right.  And  more  than  this,  she  has 
intelligence  of  no  ordinary  kind.  Although  she 
has  never  mingled  in  the  best  society,  and  is  still 
quite  young,  she  is  fit  to  grace  any  circle.  I  don't 
know  her  equal.  But,  confound  it  all !  she  is  not 
here,  and  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  any  one  in  the 
room.  I  shall  make  myself  scarce  before  an  hour 
passes." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  An  hour  had  not 
expired  before  Gardiner  was  missed  from  the  gay 
circle,  in  Mrs.  Leslie's  drawing-room. 

This  young  man  was  the  son  of  a  retired  mer- 
chant, who  had  gained  in  trade  a  very  large  pro- 
perty. Herbert,  his  only  child,  had  received  all 
the  advantages  of  education  that  wealth  can  give ; 
although,  it  cannot  be  said  that  he  had  improved 
those  advantages  in  any  remarkable  degree.  He 
was  bright  enough,  as  regards  intellect ;  but  a  high 


28  THE    MAIDEN 

motive  for  study  was  wanting.  His  father's  wealth 
and  social  standing,  left  him  but  little  to  strive  for. 

Old  Mr.  Gardiner  had  started  in  life  without 
friends  or  capital,  and  had,  by  honest  industry  and 
steady  perseverance,  worked  his  way  up,  until  he 
stood  side  by  side  with  the  most  successful.  He 
had  a  just  estimate  of  the  virtues  by  which  he  had 
risen  in  society,  and  often  strove  to  impress  his 
son  with  a  deep  regard  for  them.  But  his  pre- 
cepts did  not  take  very  deep  root  in  the  ground 
of  the  young  man's  mind.  % 

As  soon  as  he  came  home  from  college,  he  was 
placed  in  a  mercantile  house.  He  did  not,  how- 
ever, take  much  interest  in  the  business,  although 
more  to  meet  the  requirements  of  his  father  than 
anything  else,  he  attended  to  his  duty  sedulously 
enough  to  prevent  his  employers  from  becoming 
so  much  dissatisfied  with  him  as  to  dismiss  him. 
After  he  became  of  age,  his  father  proposed  that 
he  should  go  into  business  with  some  one  who  had 
less  capital,  but  a  more  thorough  knowledge  of 
trade  than  he  possessed.  Such  a  person  was  not 
hard  to  find.  A  young  man,  whose  only  capital 
was  business  capacity,  honesty,  and  energy  of 
character,  soon  presented  himself.  With  him  a 
copartnership  was  formed,  and  a  capital  of  thirty 


GARDINER'S  TRITE  CHARACTER.  29 

thousand  dollars  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
new  firm. 

Satisfied  with  the  part  he  had  done  —  or,  the 
part  that  had  been  done  for  him,  viz.,  furnishing 
capital — Gardiner  did  not  see  that  there  were  very 
strong  claims  on  him  for  personal  application. 
He  attended  at  the  store  daily,  and  took  a  certain 
part  in  the  general  operations  that  were  going  on, 
but  did  not  burden  his  mind  with  any  details,  nor 
trouble  himself  with  any  care  as  to  the  ultimate 
result  of  their  operations.  He  had  confidence  in 
his  partner,  who,  glad  to  get  capital  to  work  with, 
prosecuted  the  business  with  vigour,  and  success, 
for  mutual  benefit.  As  for  Gardiner,  he  took  his 
pleasure  in  his  own  way.  His  companions,  as  has 
been  seen,  were  not  of  the  safest  kind,  nor  his 
own  moral  character  likely  to  be  elevated  by  an 
association  with  them. 

He  was  about  twenty-three  years  of  age  when 
he  saw  Anna  Lee,  and  became  charmed  with  her 
beauty.  He  first  met  her  upon  the  street.  For 
more  than  a  month  he  was  at  a  loss  to  find  out 
who  she  was,  and  this  very  mystery  in  regard  to 
her,  only  inflamed  the  passion  with  which  her 
sweet  face  had  inspired  him.  At  length  he  met 
her  in  company,  and  obtained  an  introduction. 
His  marked  attentions,  and  the  evident  pleasure 
3* 


30  THE    MAIDEN. 

he  felt  in  her  society,  did  not  escape  the  notice  of 
Anna,  nor  fail  to  make  an  impression  upon  her. 
And  more  than  this,  she  was  not  insensible  to 
the  fact,  that  he  moved  in  a  higher  circle  than  any 
to  which  her  position  in  society  would  admit  her. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  retired  merchant  of  great 
wealth ;  she  the  daughter  of  a  man  in  moderate 
circumstances,  who  had  to  struggle  hard  to  sup- 
port and  educate  a  large  family.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  thought  of  Herbert  would  quicken  her 
pulse,  and  the  sight  of  him  make  the  blood  warmer 
on  her  cheek. 

The  reader  can  readily  perceive,  that  in  deci- 
ding not  to  go  to  Mrs.  Leslie's  party,  Anna  had 
exercised  no  ordinary  degree  of  self-denial.  Some 
may  think,  with  her  admirer,  that  her  reasons 
for  etaying  at  home  were  hardly  strong  enough. 
But  we  are  sure  that  most  of  our  readers  will  ap- 
prove her  conduct. 


CHAPTER  in. 

THE  BEAUTY  AND  POWER  OF  GOODNESS 

ANNA  remained  sitting  in  a  slightly  pensive 
mood,  in  the  parlor  below,  alter  her  father  lett 
ner.  The  manner  of  Gardiner  had  disturbed  her 
feelings.  It  opened  up  to  her  eyes  a  new  view  of 
his  character.  It  presented  him  to  her  from  a 
new  point  of  vision.  She  had  denied  herself  a 
desired  pleasure  for  the  sake  of  a  sick  parent,  and 
he  had  not  approved  the  act — nay,  had  clearly 
disapproved  it. 

"Have  I  done  right  or  wrong  I"  she  asked 
herself. 

Then  reviewing  her  conduct,  and  weighing  all 
the  reasons  that  had  decided  her  course  of  action, 
she  murmured,  "  Right,"  and  rose  to  her  feet.  The 
tea  bell  rang  at  the  moment,  and  she  ascended  to 
the  dining-room,  to  meet  her  father  and  mother, 
with  a  cheerful,  happy  face» 

"  I  '11  pour  out  the  tea,"  she  said,  as  her  mother 
came  in,  leaning  upon  her  father's  arm.  "You 
take  my  place." 

(31) 


32  THE  MAIDEN. 

"  No,  dear.  I  can  wait  on  _  the  table  weK 
enough,"  returned  Mrs.  Lee. 

"  But  I  can  do  it  better.  So  sit  down  in  my 
place." 

"Yes,  dear,  you  had  better,"  said  Mr.  Lee. 
u  Even  the  slight  exertion  of  pouring  out  the  tea 
may  disturb  your  nervous  system  too  much,  and 
bring  back  that  dreadful  pain  in  your  head.  Let 
Anna  wait  on  the  table,  this  evening." 

Mrs.  Lee  objected  no  farther,  and  Anna  did  the 
honours  of  the  table. 

John  was  very  quiet,  and  had  a  thoughtful  look. 
The  fact  was,  remembering  that  Anna  had  urged 
him  to  eat  his  supper  and  go  to  bed  when  the 
other  children  did,  because  she  wished  to  go  out, 
and  seeing  that,  although  called  for,  she  had  yet 
remained  at  home,  he  felt  that  he  had  been  unkind 
to  one  who  was  always  kind  to  him,  and  who,  on 
account  of  his  perverseness  and  ill-nature,  had 
been  deprived  of  an  expected  enjoyment.  Had 
Anna  permitted  herself  to  get  angry  with  John, 
and  been  led  to  speak  to  him  from  that  state,  he 
would  have  remained  indifferent.  But  the  gentle 
forbearance  and  self-denial  of  his  elder  sister 
touched  the  boy,  and  awakened  his  better  feelings. 
After  tea  he  called  her  aside,  and  told  her  he 
wanted  to  go  to  bed,  and  that  he  was  sorry  he  had 


BEAUTY   AND   POWER   OF    GOODNESS.  33 

not  done  as  she  wished  him  to  do  before.  She 
forgave  him  with  a  kiss,  when  the  boy  threw  his 
arms  around  ber  neck  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  You  are  so  good,  and  I  am  so  bad,"  he  sobbed. 
"  0  sister,  I  wish  I  could  be  as  good  as  you  are." 

With  kind  words  Anna  soothed  her  brother's 
mind,  and  urged  him,  in  future,  to  try  and  love 
all  around  him,  and  to  be  obedient  to  the  wishes 
of  those  who  sought  to  do  him  good.  He  promised 
never  to  disregard  what  she  should  say  to  him, 
and  to  strive  and  conquer  his  bad  temper. 

She  kissed  the  penitent  boy  again,  and  he  went 
with  subdued  feelings,  but  strong  resolutions  to  do 
right  in  future,  up  to  his  chamber. 

"  What  a  dear  good  girl  our  Anna  is,"  said  Mr. 
Lee,  after  Anna,  on  leaving  the  tea-table,  had  been 
drawn  out  of  the  room  by  John. 

"  She  is  a  blessing  to  our  house,"  returned  Mrs. 
Lee,  earnestly.  "  What  should  I  do  without  her  ? 
For  my  sake,  she  has  denied  herself  the  pleasure 
of  going  to  Mrs.  Leslie's  to-night,  although  she 
had  made  every  preparation,  and  had  promised 
herself,  I  know,  much  enjoyment.  I  urged  her 
not  to  think  of  me ;  but  she  was  firm,  and  pre- 
sented her  reasons  in  such  a  way,  that  I  could  not 
strongly  oppose  her." 


34  THE    MAIDEN. 

(t  She  has  acted  from  a  sense  of  right,  and  I  am 
glad  that  she  has  done  so." 

"  I  cannot  but  say  the  same,  although  my  feel- 
ings have  plead  strongly  for  her ;  and  I  have  felt 
sad  to  think  that  my  indisposition  was  the  cause 
of  her  disappointment." 

"To  me,"  returned  the  husband  and  father, 
"  this  little  incident,  trifling  as  it  may  seem,  has 
given  a  deeper  satisfaction  than  anything  that  has 
occurred  for  a  long  time.  I  see  in  it  the  true  safe- 
guard for  our  child,  in  this  the  most  danger-fraught 
period  of  her  whole  life.  She  is  beautiful,  inno- 
cent, accomplished.  To  know  her  is  but  to  love 
her.  Already  we  find  that  many  young  men  are 
beginning  to  seek  her  acquaintance.  That  in 
company  sne  is  courted,  and  her  hand  sought  io 
the  dance  by  those  who  have  strong  powers  to 
captivate  a  maiden's  heart.  If  a  love  of  doing 
right — if  a  spirit  of  self-denial  for  the  good  of 
others — be  the  principles  that  rule  in  her  life, 
they  will  be  as  a  panoply  of  defence  for  her  in  the 
dangerous  paths  through  which  she  will  have  to 
walk.  We  cannot  keep  our  child  out  of  the  way 
'of  temptation.  We  can  only  give  her  true  prin- 
ciples to  sustain  her  in  them." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  returned  the  mother,  in  a  halt 
musing  tone,  replying  only  to  a  portion  of  her  hus- 


BEAUTY   AND    POWER    OF    GOODNESS.  35 

band's  remarks — "she  is  already  awaking  in  the 
minds  of  those  with  whom  she  associates,  something 

7  O 

deeper  than  a  passing  regard.  One  young  man,  I 
have  noticed  of  late,  who  is  more  than  others 
attentive  to  her.  He  called,  by  appointment,  to 
go  with  her  to  the  party  to-night." 

"  Who  is  it  ?" 

"  Young  Gardiner." 

"'Indeed !"  This  was  said  with  apparent  plea- 
sure. "  I  saw  him  dance  with  her  through  two 
sets  at  Mrs.  Farnham's,  and  chat  with  her  after- 
wards a  good  deal ;  but  I  supposed  him  nothing 
more  than  a  dancing  acquaintance.  And  he  really 
called  here  1" 

"  Yes." 

"  Herbert  Gardiner  belongs  to  one  of  the  best 
families  in  the  city." 

"  Yes,  and  his  father  is  said  to  be  a  man  of  im- 
mense wealth." 

The  father  and  mother  ventured  no  more.  The 
fact  that  young  Gardiner  seemed  inclined  to  be. 
pleased  with  their  daughter,  gratified  them  both 
more  than  they  were  willing  to  express  to  each 
other. 

When  Anna  re-entered  the  room,  and  their  eyes 
rested  upon  her  face,  it  was  with  warmer  affec- 
tions, mingled  with  something  of  pride. 


CHAPTEK  IV. 

T^  MAIDEN    DELICACY    AND    ITS    OPPO- 

SITE   CONTRASTED. 

"  WHAT  in  the  world  kept  you  away  from  Mrs. 
Leslie's?'  said  a  young  friend  and  companion, 
about  her  own  age,  who  called  in  to  see  Anna  Lee 
on  the  next  day.  Her  name  was  Florence  Armi- 
tage.  "  We  had  a  most  delightful  time.  Every- 
body was  asking  for  you,  and  everybody  was  dis- 
appointed at  your  absence.  I  was  afraid  you  were 
sick,  and  have  called  in  to  see.  What  did  keep 
away  ?" 

"  Mother  was  not  well,  and  I  did  not  think  it 
right  to  go  out  and  leave  her." 

"  Was  she  very  ill  ?» 

.   "  She  had  one  of  her  violent  attacks  of  head- 
ache, and  was  in  bed  nearly  all  day." 

"  I  'm  sorry.     But  did  that  keep  you  at  home  ?" 

"  Yes.  The  children  were  to  look  after,  and, 
I  knew  if  I  were  out  of  the  way,  and  mother  not 
able  to  attend  to  them,  that  there  would  be  trouble. 
Something,  I  was  afraid,  might  occur  to  disturb 


TKUE    MAIDEN    DELICACY.  37 

her  mind,  and  bring  back  the  Head-ache ;  and  then 
she  would  have  been  sick  all  night.  I  would 
rather  have  missed  a  dozen  parties,  than  that 
should  have  happened." 

Florence  did  not  seem  altogether  satisfied  that 
the  mere  fact  of  her  mother's  not  being  well,  was 
a  sufficient  reason  why  Anna  should  forego  the 
pleasures  of  company.  But  she  did  not  say  this. 
She  only  remained  silent  for  a  moment  or  two, 
and  then  began  to  speak  of  the  delightful  time 
they  had  had. 

"  I  don't  know  when  I  have  spent  a  more  plea- 
sant evening,"  she  said.  "  We  missed  you  very 
much.  And  that  isn't  all.  Your  absence  deprived 
us  of  the  company  of  another,  jvhose  presence  all 
would  have  welcomed.  Or,  at  least,  it  was  the 
opinion  of  some  of  us  that  such  was  the  case." 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak  1"  asked  Anna. 

"  Of  a  certain  young  man." 

The  eyes  of  Anna  fell  to  the  floor-  for  an  instant. 
Then  raising  them  to  the  face  of  her  friend,  she 
•aid, 

"Speak  out,  Florence.  Who  do  you  mean? 
I  know  of  no  one  who  was  absent  on  my  accounj." 

"  0,  yes  you  do." 

"  jN'o,  Florence." 

"  Mr.  Gardiner  was  not  there."    And  as  Flo- 


38  THE    MAIDEN. 

rence  said  this  she  looked  al  Anna  with  an  arrh 
smile. 

The  latter  could  not  prevent  a  soft  blush  irom 
stealing  over  her  face,  and  her  eyes  were  again 
cast  upon  the  floor.  Lifting  them,  however,  after 
a  thoughtful  pause,  she  said  to  her  friend  in  a 
serious  voice, 

"  Florence,  are  yon  sure  Mr.  Gardiner  was  not 
there  ?" 

"  He  came,  it  is  true ;  but  only  staid  a  little 
while.  It  was  almost  as  good  as  if  he  hadn't  been 
there  at  all." 

"  But  you  ought  not  to  say  that  my  absence 
kept  him  away." 

"  No.  Only  that  your  absence  caused  him  to 
go  away."  This  was  laughingly  said. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  draw  such  an  inference, 
Florence.  I  would  much  rather  it  should  nof  be 
done.  I  am  yet  too  young  to  have  my  name 
associated  with  that  of  any  young  man." 

"  What  harm  can  it  do,  Anna  ?  I  am  sure  you 
needn't  be  ashamed  to  have  your  name  mentioned 
with  that  of  Herbert  Gardiner.  /  certainly  should 
not.  I  only  wish  he  would  take  a  fancy  to  me. 
Mother  would  have  to  have  something  more  than 
a  sick  head-ache  to  cause  me  to  decline  going  to 


TRUE   MAIDEN   DELICACY.  39 

a  party  with  him.  Such  a  prize  don't  go  a  beg- 
ging every  day." 

"  Why  do  you  call  him  a  prize  ?" 

"Why?"  And  Florence  looked  really  sur- 
prized at  the  question.  "  Why  ?  Isn't  he  ncn  ? 
Isn't  he  one  of  the  most  elegant  and  agreeable 
young  men  you  have  ever  seen  ?  I  don't  think 
you  can  point  out  his  equal.  Try  now,  and  see 
if  you  can?" 

"  As  to  that,  my  acquaintance  with  young  men 
is  not  very  extensive.  I  am  not  prepared  to  make 
any  comparisons.  As  I  before  said,  I  am  yet  too 
young  to  suffer  my  mind  to  become  interested  in 
these  matters." 

"How  old  are  you,  pray?  Perhaps  I  have 
mistaken  your  age.  Are  you  fifteen  yet  ]"  This 
was  said  laughingly. 

"  I  believe  I  am  about  eighteen." 

"It  isn't  possible!  And  too  young  to  make 
comparisons  between  young  men,  or  have  a  lover 
Why,  I  'm  not  quite  your  age,  and  I  have  had  tw< 
or  three  lovers.  It 's  delightful !" 

Anna  shook  her  head. 

"  I  know  you  like  young  Gardiner,"  continueo 
the  friend.  "  You  can't  help  it.  And  all  I  blame 
you  for,  is  that  you  did'nt  go  to  Mrs.  Lesb  >'s  with 
him,  through  thick  and  thin." 


40  THE   MAIDEN. 

"  And  neglect  a  sick  mother  ?" 

"  It  wasn't  any  serious  matter ;  that  you  know 
well.  Only  a  sick  head-ache.  You  could  have 
gone  well  enough." 

"  Not  with  a  clear  conscience,  Florence,  and 
without  that,  I  could  not  have  been  happy  any- 
where. External  circumstances  are  nothing  in 
the  scale  of  happiness,  if  all  be  not  right  within. 
I  can  say  from  my  heart,  that  I  enjoyed  myself 
far  more  at  home  than  I  could  possibly  have  done 
at  Mrs.  Leslie's,  no  matter  who  was  or  was  not 
there." 

"  You  dont  deny,  then,  that  you  like  young 
Gardiner  ?" 

"  I  said  nothing  in  regard  to  him.  Why  should 
I  deny  or  affirm  on  the  subject1?  I  don't  know 
anything  about  him.  I  have  only  seen  him  a  few 
times  in  company ;  and  I  would  be  a  weak  one, 
indeed,  either  to  think  or  wish  myself  beloved  by 
a  man  who  is  almost  a  total  stranger." 

"  He  is  no  stranger.  Doesn't  every  one  in  the 
city  know  his  family  and  standing  ?" 

"  But  what  do  you  or  I  know  about  him  1  Of 
his  feelings,  character,  or  principles '?" 

"  You  are  a  strange  girl  to  talk,  Anna." 

"  I  think  not.  Isn't  it  of  importance  to  know 
something  of  the  governing  principles  of  the  man 


TRUE    MAIDEN    DELICACY.  41 

whose  attentions  are  received  ? — Who  is  admitted, 
as  your  intimate,  in  the  character  of  a  lover?" 

"  Certainly.  But,  then,  it  is  easy  enough  for 
any  one  to  see,  at  a  glance,  what  a  young  man  is. 
I  can  do  so.  There  is  young  Hartley,  who  tries 
to  be  so  gracious  with  me.  It  is  no  hard  matter 
to  see  what  he  is." 

"  How  do  you  estimate  him  ?" 

"As  a  very  narrow-minded  person.  I  don't 
like  him  at  all." 

"  Why  1» 

"I  have  just  said.  Because  he  is  narrow 
minded." 

"  That  is,  you  think  so.  Now,  I  differ  in  opin- 
ion, judging  from  the  few  opportunities  I  have  had 
of  observing  him.  I  should  call  him  a  young  man 
of  strong  good  sense ;  and  one  who  could  never 
stoop  to  a  mean  action." 

"  You  don't  know  him  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  Perhaps  not.  As  before  intimated,  I  do  not 
think  much  about  the  characters  of  young  men." 

"It  seems  you  have  thought  about  Hartley's 
character." 

"  My  opinion  of  him  is  only  one  of  those  first 

impressions  which  are  usually  received  by  us  all. 

I  have  met  him  some  three  or  four  times,  and  in 

every  conversation  I  have  had  with  him,  I  have 

4* 


42  THE   MAIDEN. 

been  pleased  to  remark  a  strong  regard  for  truth 
and  honour,  and  a  generous  feeling  towards  every 
one,  except  those  who  deliberately  do  wrong." 

"  But  he  is  mean,  I  am  sure." 

"How?" 

"  Narrow  minded,  as  I  havr  said.  Penurious, 
if  you  please." 

"  As  to  the  latter,  I  have  no  means  of  judging. 
How  do  you  know  it  ?" 

Florence  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said  — 

"  I  will  tell  you.  Fanny  Ellsler,  you  remem- 
ber, was  here  three  or  four  weeks  ago.  A  few 
of  us  girls  were  dying  to  see  her,  and  we  hatched 
up  a  plot  among  ourselves,  that  we  would  make 
some  of  our  gentlemen  acquaintances  take  us  to  the 
theatre." 

"  Why  Florence !"  ejaculated  Anna,  in  grave 
astonishment. 

"  To  be  sure  we  did !  You  need  not  look  moon 
struck  about  it.  Where  is  the  harm,  I  wonder  ? 
Well !  I  talked  at  Hartley  until  I  was  downright 
ashamed  of  myself,  but  the  mean  fellow  wouldn't 
take.  Sarah  Miller  had  no  trouble  at  all  with  Mr. 
Granger.  She  had  only  to  turn  the  conversation 
upon  Ellsler,  and  then  express  a  strong  desire  to 
see  her,  to  be  invited  at  once.  Harriet  Jones  did 
the  same  with  young  Erskine,  and  all  was  settled 


MAIDEN  DELICACY.  43 

to  her  heart's  content.  But  I  tried  my  best,  and 
Hartley  would  not  understand  me." 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Anna,  curious  to 
learn  how  the  young  man  had  received  such  a 
strange  application — for  such  it  really  was. 

"  Oh  !"  tossing  her  head,  "  he  affected  to  disap 
prove  of  the  attendance  of  young  ladies  at  the 
theatre  —  at  least  while  these  public  dancers  were 
exhibiting  themselves." 

"  My  father  thinks  as  he  does." 

"  As  to  that,  so  does  mine.  But  I  don't  agree 
with  him  in  all  his  opinions.  He 's  like  a  great 
many  other  old  people  ;  old-fashioned  in  his  no- 
tions, and  full  of  prejudice  against  modern  im- 
provements." 

"  But,  would  you  have  gone  to  see  Fanny  Ells- 
ler  dance  against  your  father's  wishes?" 

"  Would  I  ?    Certainly  I  would— and  did." 

"  Florence !" 

"  Certainly.  If  I  were  to  do  only  as  he  thought 
and  said,  I  would  have  to  give  up  all  pleasure. 
Hartley  wouldn't  take  me,  and  s»  I  tried  Mr. 
Archer ;  who  did  not  need  a  second  hint." 

"Not  William  Archer J" 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  really  go  to  the  theatre  with  William 
Archer?" 


44  THE    MAIDEN. 

"  I  did." 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  Anna  Lee,  with  a 
look  of  deep  regret,  laying  her  hand  upon  the 
arm"  of  her  young  and  thoughtless  companion, 
"  how  could  you  be  so  unguarded  ?  —  how  could 
you  be  so  imprudent  1  I  need  not  tell  you  that 
his  character  is  very  bad." 

"  With  that,  you  know,  I  had  nothing  to  do. 
I  merely  went  to  see  Fanny  Ellsler  with  him,  and 
was  much  obliged  to  him  for  taking;  me.  His 

o  o 

character,  good  or  bad,  can  have  no  effect  upon 
me." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?" 

"  Yes ;  very  sure.   What  effect  could  it  have  ?" 

"  Apart  from  the  friendly  feelings  you  may  have 
entertained  for  a  bad  man,  which  are  always  more 
or  less  injurious  to  an  innocent-minded  woman, 
you  have  placed  youi  ^elf  in  a  position  that  may 
cause  you  to  be  lightly  spoken  about  by  those  who 
dp  not  know  you.  Whenever  a  woman  appears 
at  any  place  of  public  amusement  with  a  man  of 
notoriously  bad  character,  she  becomes,  in  a  de- 
gree, tainted.  Light  things  are  said  about  her,  and 
she  no  longer  holds  that  position  in  the  minds  of 
truly  virtuous  persons  that  she  did  before." 

"  You  speak  from  the  book.  How  do  you  know 
all  this]" 


TRUE   MAIDEN   DELICACY.  45 

f  have  heard  my  mother  say  as  much,  and  in 
» v  judgment  I  have  great  confidence.  Besides, 
it  is  a  truth  that  must  be  apparent  on  the  least 
reflection." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  I  have  heard  my  mother  say 
such  things  a  hundred  times  over.  But  I  let  them 
go  in  at  one  ear  and  out  at  the  other.  These  old 
people  think  it  necessary  to  give  line  upon  line, 
and  precept  upon  precept,  here  a  little  and  there 
a  good  deal,  to  us  young  things,  as  if  we  had  no 
more  sense  than  little  children,  and  were  blind 
as  bats." 

"  I  think  you  are  wrong  to  talk  so.  I  am  very 
careful  never  to  do  anything  against  my  mother's 
opinion  of  right." 

"  Does  your  mother  approve  of  the  theatre  ?" 

"  Not  in  its  present  state." 

"  Have  you  never  been  there  ?" 

"  0  yes.     Several  times." 

"  Indeed !  And  against  your  father  and  mo- 
ther's opinion  as  to  its  being  a  proper  place  for 
young  ladies  ?" 

"No — for  I  was  not  made  fully  acquainted 
with  their  views  on  the  subject,  until  after  I  had 
been  for  a  few  times." 

"  Who  went  with  you  ?" 

*'  My  father  and  mother." 


46  THE    MAIDEX. 

Florence  lifted  her  hands  in  astonishment. 

"  Your  father  and  mother  take  you  to  the  thea- 
tre !  Goodness !  Mine  would  as  soon  take  me  to 
my  grave." 

"  Are  they  not  aware  of  the  fact  that  you  went 
to  see  Fanny  Ellsler "?" 

"They?  No  indeed!  And  I  wouldn't  have 
them  find  it  out  for  the  world.  It  would  almost 
kill  them.  Th'ey  would  think  I  was  ruined  com- 
pletely." 

"  Such  being  the  case,  Florence,  I  cannot  but 
say,  that  I  think  you  have  done  a  double  wrong — 
first,  in  deceiving  your  excellent  father  and  mo- 
ther ;  and  next,  in  going  to  the  theatre  with  a  man 
whom  every  pure-minded  woman  should  shun 
with  horror." 

"  In  that  we  may  differ  in  opinion.  But,  there 
is  one  thing  that  I  do  not  exactly  understand," 
replied  Florence  Armitage ;  "and  that  is,  how 
your  father  and  mother  could  take  you  to  the 
theatre  when  they  disapprove  of  theatrical  repre- 
sentations." 

"No — don't  misunderstand  them.  They  do 
not  disapprove  of  scenic  representations  in  the 
abstract,  but  of  theatres  as  now  conducted.  If  the 
stage,  I  have  heard  my  father  say,  were  only  made 
an  accessory  to  virtue,  it  would  be  all-powerful 


TRUE   MAIDEN    DELICACY.  4-7 

for  good,  because  principles  are  seen  and  felt  more 
clearly  and  distinctly  when  in  ultimates ;  that  is,, 
when  brought  out  into  their  lowest  and  fullest 
plane  of  activity,  or,  in  other  words,  personified." 

"  But  still  I  do  not  understand  how  your  father 
could  take  you  to  the  theatre  as  it  is,  when  he 
disapproves  of  it." 

"I  can  explain  that.  He  knew  that  I  must 
hear  the  stage  alluded  to — he  knew  then  my 
imagination  must  be  excited  b^  glowing  represen- 
tations of  its  attractions,  and  he  feared  that,  possi- 
bly, I  might  be  tempted  to  do  as  you  have  done." 

"  How  ?" 

"  Go  without  a  parent's  knowledge." 

"  Well,  never  mind  that.     Go  on." 

"  He,  therefore,  determined  to  go  with  me  him- 
self, to  guard  me  from  evil.  To  go  with  me 
himself,  and  point  out  the  perversions  of  the 
drama  so  clearly  that  I  might  see  them  myself, 
and  from  a  rational  conviction  shun  their  false 
allurements." 

"  And  did  he  succeed  ?  Could  you  see  the  evil 
he  was  so  anxious  to  point  out?" 

"  Clearly.  It  was  as  plain  to  my  eyes  as  a 
dark  spot  in  the  beautiful  azure  of  heaven." 

"Indeed!  I  must  have  been  blind  then;  for 
I  could  never  see  it." 


4S  THE    MAIDEN. 

"And  my  vision  might  have  been  obscured, 
had  not  there  been  one  by  my  side  to  take  the 
mist  from  my  eyes." 

"  What  great  evil  did  you  discover  ?" 

*'  I  saw  that  vice  and  crime  are  too  often  made 
attractive,  instead  of  being  condemned.  Let  ms 
give  an  instance.  On  one  occasion  my  father 
took  me  to  see  the  opera  of  Fra  Diavalo." 

"  Were  you  not  delighted  ?" 

"  I  was  very  much  pleased.  The  music  of  the 
piece  was  exquisite.  Some  of  the  chorusses  have 
haunted  me  ever  since." 

"  And  were  you  not  struck  with  the  bold  bear- 
ing, the  nobility,  if  I  may  so  speak,  of  Fra  Dia- 
valo himself?" 

"  I  must  confess  that  my  sympathies  were  too 
much  with  him ;  and  that,  when  he  was  circum- 
vented and  killed  at  last,  I  was  disappointed.  On 
returning  home,  my  father  said — 'How  were  you 
pleased  Anna  ]' 

"  f  Oh,  I  was  delighted,'  I  replied. 

'• l  Do  you  think  that  representation,  aided  by 
such  noble  music,  calculated  to  inspire  any  heart 
witn  a  love  of  virtue  ?' 

"  This  was  putting  a  new  face  upon  the  matter. 
Such  a  thought  had  not  once  occurred  to  me. 


TRlflE    MAIDEN   DELICACY.  49 

"  '  The  brigand's  song  was  encored.  Were  you 
pleased  to  hear  it  again  ?' 

"  '  Yes,'  I  replied 

"  '  Did  your  mind  revolt  at  the  sentiments  ?' 

•'  *  No,'  I  answered. 

"  '  Why  ?'  he  continued. 

"  '  It  was  the  music,  I  suppose,  that  made  eveii 
cruel  words,  and  a  boast  of  evil  deeds,  pleasant.' 

" '  Yes,  that  was  it,  aided  by  the  external 
attractions  of  beautiful  scenery,  and  a  gay  com- 
pany, apparently  filled  with  delight  at  the  bri- 
gand's rehearsal  of  his  valiant  achievements.' 

" '  Do  you  think  it  good  to  feel  such  pleasure 
at  witnessing  the  representation  of  evil  ?'  asked 
my  father. 

"  I  could  not  but  answer  '  No.' 

"'Suppose,'  he  continued,  <  that  the  spirited 
air  just  alluded  to,  had  been  sung  to  true  and  ele- 
vating sentiments — to  a  national  song,  for  instance, 
inspiring  the  heart  with  a  love  of  country — 
would  not  every  one  who  heard  it,  and  in  whose 
memory  it  fixed  itself  as  a  familia*  friend,  feel  a 
deeper  love  of  his  country  than  he  had  ever  known 
before  ?  Extend  it  farther.  You  doubtless  felt  an 
emotion  of  pain,  when  the  brigand  lost  his  life. 
That  is,  you  regretted  to  see  a  robber  and  mur- 
derer receive  the  just  reward  of  his  deeds ;  for  all 
5 


50  THE   MAIDEN. 

the  charms  of  music,  scenery,  and  inspiring  cir- 
cumstances, had  led  your  mind  away  into  an 
overmastering  sympathy  with  a  bold  brigand. 
How  much  better,  had  the  hero  of  the  opera  been 
a  true  nobleman  of  nature ;  one  who  sought  the 
good  of  his  fellows  ;  one  who  could  perform  deeds 
of  daring  —  could  be  bold,  and  brave,  and  noble 
in  the  cause  of  virtue.  No  harm,  but  great  good 
would  result  from  such  representations.  The 
stage  would  be  the  hand-maid  of  morality  and 
religion,  if  pledged  to  virtue,  as  it  now,  alas ! 
seems  pledged  to  vice.  You  understand,  now, 
my  child,  I  hope,  why  I  think  it  is  not  good  for 
young  persons  to  visit  the  theatre,  as  it  now  is  ?' 

"I  could  not  but  approve  all  my  father  had 
said.  His  remarks  opened  up  to  my  mind  a  new 
view.  He  had  given  me  a  standard  by  which  to 
estimate  the  stage,  and  I  could  now  determine  its 
quality  for  myself.  And  I  do  determine,  and  pro- 
nounce its  tendency  to  be  downward,  and  its 
effects  injurious  to  young  minds." 

"  Really !  you  meet  the  whole  matter  in  the 
broadest  manner.  Then  you  think  there  is  no 
good  whatever  in  the  stage  as  it  now  is  ?" 

"  If  there  were  no  good  at  all  —  if  all  were  evil, 
in  scenic  representations,  as  they  are  now  con- 
ducted— my  father  says,  and  it  seems  reasonable. 


TRUE    MAIDEN   DELICACY.  51 

that  they  would  no  longer  be  permitted  to  exist  in 
the  order  of  Providence.  There  cannot  be  such  a 
thing,  he  says,  as  mere  gratuitous  evil ;  that  is, 
evil  which  is  not  permitted,  in  order  to  elevate 
some  from  lower  degrees  of  depravity,  or  to  pre- 
vent their  sinking  into  deeper  moral  obscurity. 
In  all  the  representations  of  real  life  that  we  see 
upon  the  stage,  we  find  something  that  is  good  — 
something  that  impresses  the  mind  with  the  brauty 
of  truth  and  virtue  —  something  that  makes  us 
think  of  God  as  a  Divine  guide  and  protector. 
Take,  for  instance,  in  the  opera  just  alluded  to, 
that  portion  of  the  chamber  scene  in  which  2-er- 
lina  murmurs  a  prayer  in  her  sleep,  and  the  hand 
of  the  assassin,  already  raised  to  strike  her  in?\o- 
cent  heart,  is  stayed,  and  the  wretch  shrinks  away 
in  trembling  consciousness  that  He  to  whom  that 
prayer  was  sweetly  breathed,  even  in  sleep,  \\  au 
present.  That  was  good.  It  was  a  boldly  redeem- 
ing point,  and  could  not  fail  to  make  a  due  iru- 
pression  on  every  mind.  Have  you  seen  I'ra 
Diavalo?" 

"  O  yes." 

"  You  remember  the  scene  ?" 

"  Yes.  It  was  more  distinctly  Impressed  upon 
my  mind  than  any  other." 

"  How  were  you  affected  by  it 7" 


52  THE    MAIDEN. 

"  Not  pleasantly." 

"  Why  ?' 

"  It  caused  me  to  recollect,  too  distinctly,  that 
I  was  at  that  very  moment  acting  directly  in  op- 
position to  the  wishes  of  my  father  and  mother ; 
that  I  could  not  now  pray,  as  I  had  once  prayed 
in  earlier  years,  that  God  would  watch  over  me 
while  in  sleep." 

"  You  can  now  understand,  I  am  sure,  what  I 
mean  by  the  balance  of  good  yet  to  be  found  in 
the  stage." 

"  Yes,  Anna,  I  do,"  Florence  said,  after  a  silence 
of  nearly  a  minute.  She  spoke  in  a  voice  that 
was  slightly  touched  with  sadness.  "  And  from 
my  heart,  I  wish  that  my  parents  had  laid  aside  a 
portion  of  their  prejudice,  and  taken  me  to  the 
theatre,  as  yours  did  you,  and  then  as  carefully 
lifted  my  mind  up  and  enabled  me  to  see  the  good 
and  evil  so  intimately  blended,  as  they  doubtless 
are.  You  have  been  often,  you  say  ?" 

"  Yes ;  that  is,  a  half  a  dozen  times,  perhaps." 

"  Did  you  see  Ellsler  P> 

"  No." 

"  I  think  you  would  have  been  delighted  with 
her  dancing.  It  was,  truly,  the  poetry  of  motion." 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  see  her." 

"  Why  ?" 


TRUE    MAIDEN    DELICACY.  53 

u  I  have  witnessed  stage  dancing." 

"  Who  did  you  see  ?» 

"  Celeste." 

"  Ah  !  1  wanted  to  see  her  badly  ;  but  no  one 
invited  me  to  go.  How  did  you  like  her?" 

"  There  was  a  charming  grace  and  ease  in  all 
her  motions  ;  and  some  of  her  pantomimic  per- 
formances were  admirable.  But  my  cheek  buriK-J 
the  whole  time.  Could  a  modest  woman  expose 
her  person  as  she  did?  No!  nor  could  a  truly 
modest  woman  look  upon  such  an  exposure  with- 
out a  feeling  of  deep  shame  and  humiliation." 

"  But  crowds  of  the  most  respectable  women  went 
to  see  her,  night  after  night.  She  could  not  have 
exposed  her  person  more  than  Fanny  Ellsler  did  ; 
and  yet  I  saw  present,  Mrs.  L  -  ,  and  Miss 
T  -  ,  and  Mrs.  S  -  ,  and  dozens  of  virtuous 
women,  and  no  cheek  was  covered  with  blushes 
of  shame.  Indeed,  every  one  was  charmed  with 
the  creature's  airy  and  sylph-like  motions.  No 
one  thought  of  the  exposure  you  allude  to." 

"  Didn't  you  tWnk  of  it  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  perhaps  I  did." 

"And  so  did  others.  Would  you  be  willing  to 
expose  yourself,  as  she  did,  in  a  drawing-room 
filled  with  gentlemen  and  ladies  Vi 

"  No." 


\ 


54  THE    MAIDEN. 

"  Why  ?" 

• 

"  I  shouldn't  be  willing  to  exhibit  myself  undei 
any  circumstances." 

"Suppose  your  friend  Mary  Cast  on  were  to 
divss  herself  in  short  clothes-,  and  flourish  about  in 
a  company  of  men  and  women,  after  the  fashion  of 
Fanny  Ellsler,  would  you  approve  of  it  ?  Wouldn't 
you  blush  with  shame  ?" 

"  I  think  I  should." 

"  Is  the  fact  of  the  exposure  any  different  be- 
cause it  is  made  under  the  different  circumstanees 
now  presented?  I  think  you  will  not  say  so. 
Depend  upon  it,  the  way  in  which  stage  dancing 
is  now  conducted,  is  but  a  tribute  to  an  impure 
and  perverted  taste  ;  and  no  woman,  in  my  opin- 
ion, can  look  upon  it  with  pleasure,  without  part- 
ing with  a  portion  of  woman's  purest  and  most 
holy  feelings." 

"  If  you  were  to  say  so  to  some  persons  that  I 
know,  you  would  offend  them,"  Florence  said,  in 
a  more  subdued  tone  than  any  in  which  she  had 
yet  spoken. 

"  I  could  not  help  that.  I  believe  all  I  say, 
from  my  heart." 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    DANGEROUS     CHARACTER. 

HERBERT  GARDIXER,  notwithstanding  the  light 
manner  in  which  he  had  permitted  himself  to 
speak  of  Anna  Lee,  among  his  convivial  friends, 
felt  strongly  attracted  towards  her.  As  has  been 
seen,  he  could  not  hide  the  disappointment  he  felt 
at  her  refusal  to  go  to  Mrs.  Leslie's  party.  He 
believed  the  reason  she  gave  to  be  the  true  one, 
but  considered  it  altogether  insufficient. 

"  If  she  cared  as  much  about  my  company  as  I 
do  about  hers,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  walked  in 
half  ill-humour  away,  "  she  would  have  gone  if 
all  the  family  had  been  sick.  What  do  I  care  for 
this  party  if  she  is  away  ?  Not  that !" 

And  he  snapped  his  fingers  disdainfully. 

"But  I  shall  have  to  go,  I  suppose,  for  the 
mere  sake  of  appearances;  though  I  shall  soon 
make  myself  scarce.  Confound  the  girl's  mother ! 
What  business  had  she  to  get  sick  just  at  this  mo- 
ment 1» 

With  such  thoughts,  the  young  man  slowly 

(00) 


56  THE  MAIDEN. 

pursued  his  way  towards  Mrs.  Leslie's  dwelling. 
Mrs.  Leslie  was  a  widow  lady,  with  one  son  and  a 
daughter,  who  occupied  a  kind  of  middle  ground 
between  the  highest  and  second  class.  Her  hus- 
band, who  had  been  dead  some  years,  belonged  to 
one  of  the  best  families  in  the  state.  From  causes 
not  necessary  to  mention  here,  he  lost  a  large  por- 
tion of  his  property ;  and  when  he  died,  left  his 
family  only  in  moderate  circumstances,  although 
by  no  means  poor.  Compelled  to  give  up  to  a 
great  extent,  the  style  in  which  she  had  lived, 
Mrs.  Leslie  yet  retained  all  of  her  former  associa- 
tions. Gardiner  was  intimate  with  her  son ;  and, 
therefore,  often  visited  in  the  family. 

Mr.  Lee  had  lived  neighbour  for  some  time  to 
Mrs.  Leslie,  and  owing  to  this  circumstance,  his 
wife  and  daughter  became  acquaintances  of  the 
latter.  Pleased  with  Anna's  beauty,  intelligence, 
and  charming  manners,  Mrs.  Leslie  introduced  her 
into  company  at  her  house,  and  this  brought  her 
into  a  different  circle  from  the  one  she  had  been 
used  to  moving  in.  Here  she  first  met  Florence 
Armitage,  with  whose  opinions  and  conduct  the 
reader  has  already  been  made  acquainted ;  and 
here  she  also  first  met  Herbert  Gardiner,  who  had 
been  struck  with  her  appearance  on  the  street. 
The  father  of  Miss  Armitage  was  in  better  circling 


A    DANGEROUS    CHARACTER.  57 

stances  than  Mr.  Lee,  although  his  position  in 
society  was  no  higher.  Gardiner's  station  has 
already  been  mentioned. 

Mrs.  Leslie  was  one  of  that  dangerous  class  of 
persons  known  as  match-makers.  She  had  made 
some  efforts  to  bring  about  an  arrangement  oe- 
tween  Gardiner  and  her  own  daughter  ;  but  that 
was  set  at  rest  by  the  announcement  of  Emma 
Leslie,  that  she  had  already  engaged  herself  to  an 
individual,  to  whom  the  mother  did  not  feel  in- 
clined to  make  any  serious  objection.  Having, 
therefore,  no  views  of  her  own  in  regard  to  the 
young  man,  she,  very  naturally,  following  the 
bent  of  her  inclinations,  looked  about  to  see  who 
would  suit  him.  The  evident  impression  made 
upon  his  mind  on  meeting  Anna  Lee,  determined 
her  course  of  action.  The  young  man  was  half 
in  love,  she  saw,  and  also  perceived  that  Anna 
was  not  displeased  with  his  attentions. 

"  The  very  thing,"  murmured  Mrs.  Leslie,  with 
an  inward  glow  of  delight.  "  They  will  make  a 
charming  couple.  She  is  worthy  of  just  such  a 
match,  and  it  shall  be  made  for  her." 

What  Mrs.  Leslie  considered  a  "  good  match," 
regarded  external  circumstances  alone.  Of  the 
moral  fitness  of  a  young  man  and  a  young  woman 
for  becoming  married  partners,  she  never  thought 


5%  TIIE    MAIDEN. 

for  k  moment.  It  was  beyond  the  circle  of  her 
ideas.  To  Gardiner,  she  said,  as  soon  as  she  could 
get  his  ear  after  his  first  meeting  with  Anna, 

"  She 's  just  the  one  for  you,  Herbert." 

"  Do  you  think  so "?"  returned  the  young  man, 
smiling. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  am  really  in  earnest.  I  wonder 
I  never  thought  of  her  for  you  before." 

"  It  is  strange,  certainly.  How  much  obliged 
I  am  to  my  friend  Mrs.  Leslie  for  being  so 
thoughtful  for  me.  And  you  really  think  this 
young  lady  just  the  thing  ]" 

"  I  do,  seriously." 

"  She  is  certainly  a  sweet  girl." 

"  You  might  say  so,  if  you  knew  her  as  well  as 
I  do.  Her  mind  is  as  sweet  as  her  face." 

" How  long  have  you  known  her?" 

"  For  some  months." 

"  Tell  me  who  she  is,  precisely  ?" 

"  The  daughter  of  John  Lee,  President  of  • 
Insurance  Company." 

"  Ah !  I  know  him  well  enough ;  and  a  very 
clever  man  he  is.  But  then,  Mrs.  Leslie,  I  can't 
make  iove  to  the  daughter  of  the  President  of  an 
Insurance  Company.  My  old  people  would  never 
hear  to  it." 

"  Tut,  my  boy !     If  you  can  really  love  her, 


A    DANGEROUS    CHARACTER.  59 

pick  her  out  and  elevate  her  to  your  own  station. 
My  word  for  it  she  will  grace  any  position.  As 
to  your  father  and  mother,  any  mere  objection 
arising  from  ,pride  or  prejudice  will  soon  give 
way  ;  and  then  they  will  thank  you  for  choosing 
one  whom  they  cannot  but  love." 

"  There  is  something  in  that ;  but  I  must  see 
her  a  few  times  more.  I  have  often  met  her  in 
the  street,  and  been  struck  with  her  appearance ; 
in  fact,  I  have  been  trying  for  the  last  three 
months  to  find  out  who  she  was." 

"  Ah,  indeed !  I  am  glad  of  that.  Depend  upon 
it,  you  were  cut  out  for  each  other." 

In  this  way,  Mrs.  Leslie  managed  to  fan  into  a 
flame  the  prepossessions  which  Gardiner  had  felt 
in  favour  of  Miss  Lee.  To  Anna,  she  broached 
the  matter  with  more  caution ;  for  she  understood 
her  character  very  well.  At  first  the  maiden 
seemed  to  shrink  in  displeasure  from  anything 
like  a  connexion  of  her  name  with  that  of  the 
young  man.  But  Mrs.  Leslie  soon  saw  that  what 
she  had  said,  was  working  its  way  into  her  heart. 

When  next  Anna  met  Gardiner,  her  eyes 
drooped  beneath  his  earnest  gaze.  Mrs.  Leslie 
saw  this,  and  her  lips  closed  in  a  quiet  smile  of 
self  satisfaction. 


60  THE  MAIDEN. 

"That  matter  is  certain,"  she  said  to  herself, 
with  exultation. 

In  all  this,  the  mistaken  woman  imagined  her- 
self actuated  by  the  best  of  motives.  She  was 
sure  that  Anna  was  worthy  the  hand  of  Gardiner ; 
and  she  believed  that,  as  the  bride  of  one  in  his 
station,  she  could  not  but  be  happy.  She  knew 
nothing  about  the  real  moral  qualities  of  the  young 
man ;  indeed  she  never  once  thought  about  them. 
All  was  right,  in  that  respect,  of  course. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Lee  ?"  she  asked  of  Gardiner, 
on  the  night  of  the  party  at  her  house,  which  had 
been  given  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  certain 
young  persons  together,  and  giving  them  a  chance. 
"I  thought  you  were  to  have  called  for  her?" 

"And  so  I  did.  But  she  wouldn't  come." 
The  young  man  spoke  as  if  a  good  deal  disturbed. 

"  Wouldn't  come  ?     From  what  reason  ?" 

"She  made  an  excuse  that  her  mother  was 
sick." 

"  The  exact  truth,  if  Anna  said  so." 

"  No  doubt  she  was  a  little  indisposed.  But  I 
don't  believe  she  was  so  sick  but  that  Anna  could 
have  left  her  easily  enough.  In  fact,  I  know  this 
to  be  the  case,  from  the  very  manner  in  which 
she  spoke  of  her  mother's  indisposition." 

"  You  "come  to  conclusions  too  hastily,  my 


A    DANGEROUS    CHARACTER.  61 

young  friend,"  returned  Mrs.  Leslie.  "If  Anna 
told  you  that  she  could  not  go  out  on  account  of 
her  mother's  indisposition,  she  told  you  only  the 
truth.  That  was  her  reason,  and  none  other  j 
depend  upon  it.  I  know  her  well ;  and  know, 
that  if  she  had  not  wanted  to  come,  she  would 
have  told  you  so,  without  the  slightest  hesitation 
Anna  Lee  has  a  noble  love  of  truth." 

"Perhaps  so,"  and  Gardiner  moved  his  head 
incredulously. 

"I   know  that  she  has,  Herbert.      And  you 
must  believe  me  in  this." 

"  If  I  can." 

"  You  are  a  weak  and  foolish  young  man.  Faint 
heart  never  won  fair  lady.  If  you  give  up  so 
easily,  you  are  not  worthy  the  hand  of  so  sweet  a , 
girl  as  Anna  Lee,  who  has  not  her  equal  in  this 
city.  I  must  find  some  one  else  to  carry  off  the 
prize." 

"  As  you  please,"  coolly  replied  Gardiner. 

"  Very  well.  I  shall  not  long  have  her  upon 
my  hands.  There  is  a  quiet- looking  young  man 
whom  you  have  sometimes  seen  at  my  house, 
named  Hartley.  He  took  a  fancy  to  Florence 
Armitage,  some  time  ago,  but  it  did  not  last  long. 
He  gradually  moved  himself  off  from  her.  Why, 
I  have  never  learned,  though  I  sounded  him  more 
6 


62  THE    MAIDEN. 

than  once  on  the  subject.  Well,  this  young  man 
has  had  his  eye  upon  Anna  ever  since  his  coldness 
towards  Florence  commenced.  So  far,  he  has  con- 
tented himself  with  observing  her,  so  to  speak, 
from  a  distance.  But  I  can  see  his  eye  begin  to 
brighten  up,  now,  at  her  name ;  and  he  has  already 
asked  me  several  questions  about  her." 

"Hartley?     Who  is. he?" 

"  Don't  you  remember  to  have  met  him  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Let  me  see  if  he  is  here.  Yes,  there  he  sits 
near  the  window,  talking  to  Caroline  Etheridge." 

"  Not  that  smoothed-faced  genius  ?" 

"  He  hasn't  your  wealth  of  whiskers,  certainly." 

"  He  beginning  to  think  of  Anna  Lee  !  Ha!  ha !" 

"  It  is  true,  upon  my  word." 

Gardiner  gave  his  head  an  indifferent  toss,  say- 
ing, as  he  did  so,  — 

"If  he  can  win. her,  let  him  wear  her." 

"A  woman's  heart,  Herbert,"  replied  Mrs. 
Leslie,  "  is  a  strange  substance.  It  takes  impres- 
sions easily,  but  when  they  are  once  made,  it  is 
impossible  to  efface  them.  I  should  be  sorry 
indeed  that  any  hand  should  first  impress  the 
heart  of  Anna  Lee  but  yours.  See,  yourself,  that 
this  does  not  take  place." 

Their  conversation  had  already  been  too  much 


A    DANGEROUS    CHARACTER.  63 

prolonged  under  the  circumstances,  and  Mrs. 
Leslie  moved  from  the  young  man's  side,  to 
mingle  more  generally  with  her  company.  When 
left  alone,  Gardiner's  eye  turned  instinctively 
towards  Hartley. 

•'  Who  is  the  young  man  you  spoke  to  me  about 
a  little  while  ago  1"  he  said,  when  next  he  founa 
himself  at  the  side  of  Mrs.  Leslie. 

"  I  believe  he  is  clerk  or  junior  partner  in  a 
Market  Street  house." 

"  Humph !"  And  Gardiner  turned  away  with  a 
manner  that  said — "  is  that  all?" 

The  fact  that  Anna  did  not  come,  made  the 
young  man  altogether  indifferent  to  the  pleasures 
of  society.  It  was  all  in  vain  that  a  bevy  of 
young  girls,  with  bright  eyes,  and  witching 
smiles,  sought  to  entrap  his  heart.  He  scarcely 
saw  them.  Even  Florence  Armitage,  who  would 
have  liked  to  make  an  impression  on  him,  spite  of 
her  friendship  for  Anna,  could  not  get  him  to  her 
side. 

In  about  an  hour,  the  young  man  quietly  stole 
away,  and  went  to  the  theatre.  It  was  past  two 
o'clock  when  he  came  home,  more  fully  unde? 
the  influence  of  wine  than  he  had  been  for  months 
But  neither  his  father  nor  mother  knew  of  this 
Their  senses  were  locked  in  slumber,  hours  before 
he  sought  his  pillow. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  MAIDEN'S  FIRST  STRONG  TRIAL. 

IT  was  not  long  before  Mrs.  Leslie  managed  to 
bring  Anna  and  Mr.  Gardiner  together  at  her 
house.  This  she  did  adroitly.  Neither  of  the 
parties  suspected  her  agency  in  the  matter. 

Since  their  last  meeting,  Anna  had  examined 
her  own  heart  closely ;  she  had  also  thought  much 
about  Gardiner,  and  endeavoured  to  analyze  his 
character  as  accurately  as  possible.  The  result 
was,  a  distinct  conviction  that,  although  she  could 
not  but  feel  an  interest  in  him,  he  was  not  one 
whose  moral  feelings  could  harmonize  with  her 
own.  The  glimpse  she  had  obtained  of  his  cha- 
racter, when  she  told  him  that  she  must  remain 
at  home  on  account  of  her  mother's  illness,  was 
enough  to  cause  her  to  shrink  from  him. 

in  meeting  him  again,  she  could  not  but  mani- 
fest the  reserve  and  coldness  she  felt.  This  dis- 
turbed him ;  and  his  disturbed  feelings  reacted  on 
hers,  and  thus  drove  them  further  asunder.  Mrs. 
Leslie  saw  all  this,  and  tried  hard  to  remove  it 

*  (64i 


THE    FUST    STRf»G    TRIAL. 

but  without  success.     When  Anna  and  the  young 
inan  parted  that  night,  both  felt  unhappy. 

From  this  time,  Gardiner,  who  was  piqued  at 
Anna's  coldness,  was  resolved  to  win  her.  The 
very  indifference  she  manifested,  only'inflamed 
the  passion  he  felt.  Mrs.  Leslie  became  his  confi 
dent  and  adviser  in  the  matter,  and  through  her 
he  gained  a  knowledge  of  all  her  movements ;  but 
not  of  all  her  feelings,  for  these  were  not  commu- 
nicated freely  to  the  woman  who  professed  for  her 
so  warm  a  friendship. 

Thus  matters  went  on  for  several  months,  during 
which  time  Gardiner  called  frequently  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Lee. to  see  his  daughter,  and  managed  often 
to  throw  himself  into  his  company,  in  a  business 
way.  In  every  casual  or  prolonged  interview 
with  Mr.  Lee,  Gardiner  was  exceedingly  polite 
and  deferential.  The  effect  of  all  this  upon  the 
father's  mind  was  favourable. 

As  for  Anna,  the  oftener  she  met  with  the 
young  man,  the  stronger  was  the  sphere  of  repul- 
sion that  surrounded  him.  She  could  not  tell 
why ;  but  her  heart  shrunk  from  him  more  and 
more,  daily.  Spite  of  all  she  could  do,  she  could 
not  forget  his  manner,  nor  the  expression  of  his 
face,  on  the  evening  she  had  declined  going  with 
6* 


66  THE    MAIDEN. 

him  to  Mrs.  Leslie's,  on  the  plea  of  duty  to  her 
sick  mother. 

One  evening  she  was  sitting  at  her  piano,  and 
playing  over  for  her  own  ear  some  favourite  piece, 
when  a  domestic  came  in,  and  said  that  her  mother, 
who  was  alone  in  her  room,  wished  to  see  her. 

Anna  went  up,  as  desired. 

"  Sit  down,  dear ;  I  have  something  I  wish  to 
say  to  you." 

The  manner  in  which  Mrs.  Lee  spoke,  caused 
the  heart  of  Anna  to  sink  heavily.  There  was 
something  strange  and  ominous  in  it.  She  dropped 
into  a  chair  by  her  mother's  side,  and  looked  ear- 
nestly in  her  face.  Something  half  whispered  to 
her  the  nature  of  what  she  was  to  hear. 

"Your  father,  Anna,  who  went  out  a  little 
while  ago,  wishes  me  to  say  to  you,"  began  the 
mother,  in  a  voice  that  was  neither  clear  nor  com- 
posed, "  that  Mr.  Herbert  Gardiner  has  asked  of 
him  the  privilege  of  claiming,  with  your  consent, 
your  hand  in  marriage." 

The  maiden  rose  quickly  to  her  feet,  and  stood 
with  a  quivering  lip  before  her  mother. 

*'  You  have  no  doubt  expected  as  much,  Anna," 
added  Mrs.  Lee,  after  a  pause.  "  Mr.  Gardiner 
has  visited  you  frequently  of  late." 

Anna  tried  ha/d  to  speak,  but  it  was  nearly  a 


THE    FIRST    STRONG    TRIAL.  67 

minute  before  she  could  articulate.  At  length  she 
said,  in  a  tremulous  voice,  the  tears  starting  from 
her  eyes  as  she  spoke  — 

"Mother — dear  mother!  Don't  speak  to  me 
of  that.  I  love  you  too  well  to  wish  to  part  from 
vou." 

And  she  sunk  by  her  mother's  side,  and  hid  her 
face  in  her  lap.  Mrs.  Lee  was  deeply  moved. 
She  placed  one  hand  tenderly  upon  Anna's  head, 
and,  with  the  other,  clasped  the  hand  of  her  child 
that  had  fallen  upon  her  bosom.  For  some  time 
all  was  still.  Then  Mrs.  Lee  endeavoured  to 
raise  Anna  from  her  recumbent  position;  with 
some  difficulty  she  succeeded  in  doing  so,  and 
placing  her  in  a  chair  by  her  side.  But  the  face 
of  the  maiden  remained  concealed  in  her  hands. 

"Anna,  dear,"  again  began  the  mother,  "I 
respond  with  deep  tenderness  to  the  love  you  ex- 
press. It  will  be  a  sad  day  for  me,  when  I  am 
called  upon  to  give  you  up.  'But  I  cannot  hide 
from  myself  the  fact  that  I  shall  have  to  meet  and 
go  through  the  trial,  sooner  or  later.  I  will  not 
shrink  from  it,  even  if  it  should  be  to-morrow,  if 
your  best  interests  were  concerned." 

There  was  a  pause,  but  no  reply.  Mi's.  Lee 
resumed. 

"  Let  your  mother  speak  to  you  freely.     She 


68  T1IE    MAIDEN. 

lovers  jou  oroi.  Heretofore,  she  has  always  com- 
municated with  you  unreservedly.  Let  her  do  so 
now.  Be  calm.  Be  a  woman.  Meet  this  sub- 
ject, the  most  important  in  your  life,  with  unruffled 
feelings.  As  I  before  said,  Mr.  Gardiner  has  de- 
clared to  your  father  that  he  wishes  to  address  you 
with  views  of  marriage.  He,  in  fact,  through 
your  father,  offers  you  his  hand.  Do  you  accept 
it?" 

There  was  a  breathless  silence. 

" Speak,  my  child!     What  is  your  decision?" 

"If  left  to  my  decision,  mother,  it  is  soon 
made,"  was  the  murmured  reply. 

"  It  rests  with  you,  of  course." 

A  quick  shudder  passed  through  the  maiden's 
frame,  which  was  distinctly  felt  by  Mrs.  Lee. 
Then  she  said  in  a  firm  voice, — 

"I  decline  his  offer!" 

"  Anna !"  and  Mrs.  Lee  half  started  to  her  feet 
in  surprize. 

"  Did  you  not  say  that  I  was  to  decide  ?" 

"  True.  But  how  can  you  decide  against  him^ 
of  all  others?" 

"Because,  of  all  others,  I  least  regard  him. 
The  oftener  I  see  him,  the  more  strongly  I  aw 
repulsed  by  him." 

"  Why  ?» 


THE    FIRST    STRONG    TRIAt,.  69 

« I  cannot  tell." 

A  long  silence  followed,  during  which  the 
mother's  mind  gradually  became  clear,  and  its 
perceptions  distinct.  Both  herself  and  husband 
had  been  greatly  pleased  at  the  offer  of  Gardiner, 
and  neither  of  them  had  entertained  the  most 
remote  idea  that  Anna  would  have  declined  it. 
In  doing  so  as  promptly  as  she  did,  Mrs.  Lee  was 
thrown  back  upon  herself,  disappointed  and  con- 
founded. But  her  good  sense,  true  perceptions, 
and  genuine  affection  for  her  child,  restored,  gia- 
dually,  her  mind's  true  tone  and  balance. 

"  It  is  for  you,  and  you  alone,  Anna,"  she  at 
length  said,  in  a  serious,  yet  affectionate  voice, 
"to  decide  this  matter,  and  your  decision  must 
settle  the  question.  But  in  making  it,  have  you 
well  considered  ?" 

"  Mother,  I  have.  Though  too  young  to  be 
called  upon  to  decide  a  matter  of  so  much  import- 
ance, I  have  yet  been  compelled  to  do  it ;  and  it 
has  not  been  without  many  a  hard  struggle,  and 
many  an  earnest  prayer  for  guiding  light  to  Him 
whose  wisdom  is  a  lamp  to  our  feet.  I  cannot 
say  I  have  not  been  tempted  strongly  to  make  the 
decision  in  his  favour." 

"  You  knew,  then,  of  his  intended  proposition 
to  your  father  ?" 


70  THE    MAIDEN. 

"  No.  But  I  heard  from  a  mutual  friend,  that 
he  was  visiting  me  with  serious  intentions  of 
marriage,  if  I  would  consent,  which  seemed  to  BH 
thought  a  matter  of  course.  At  that  time  I 
weighed  the  matter  well,  and  shortly  afterwards 
decided  my  course.  Nothing  has  since  occurred 
to  make  me  waver,  but  rather  to  confirm  my  reso- 
lution. The  oftener  I  meet  him,  the  more  repul- 
sive does  he  seem  to  me.  Sometimes  I  have  a 
feeling  of  suffocation  when  in  his  company.  And 
never  do  I  come  into  his  presence,  without  send- 
ing up  an  almost  involuntary  prayer,  that  the  Lord 
would  encompass  me  with  a  band  of  angels." 

Mrs.  Lee  drew  her  arm  tightly  around  her 
child.  She  was  a  woman  with  a  true  heart,  and 
enlightened  perceptions,  and  was,  therefore,  satis- 
fied that  Anna  was  not  governed  by  any  childish 
impulse.  That  the  mind  of  her  daughter  was  pure 
as  virgin  innocence  itself,  she  knew;  and  she  also 
knew,  that  the  internal  repulsion  felt  towards 
Gardiner,  must  arise  from  the  opposition  of  the 
spheres  of  their  moral  qualities,  felt  as  their 
thoughts  were  directed  towards  each  other — for 
mutual  thought  makes  mental  presence,  as  per- 
fectly as  bodily  proximity  makes  physical  pre- 
*ence.  Feeling  thus,  not  the  honour  nor  wealth 


THE  FIRST  STRONG  TRIAL.  71 

of  the  world  could  have  tempted  Mrs.  Lee  to 
sacrifice  her  child. 

In  about  an  hour,  Mr.  Lee  was  heard  coming  in 
at  the  street  door ;  and  Anna,  first  kissing  her 
mother  tenderly,  glided  up  to  her  own  chamber. 
Closing  the  door  after  her,  she  sunk  down  by  her 
bed-side  upon  her  knees,  and  remained  in  that 
attitude  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  When  she 
arose,  her  face  was  very  pale,  but  elevated  in  ex- 
pression; and  beautiful  to  look  upon.  Seating 
herself  by  the  window,  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  the 
pure  sky,  jewelled  with  its  myriad  stars,  and 
bathed  in  the  soft  moonlight.  There  was  about 
her  feelings  a  holy  tranquillity  —  a  deep  con- 
sciousness of  having  acted  right  in  a  matter  in- 
volving most  vital  consequences.  The  scene  ac- 
corded with  her  feelings.  Her  state  of  mind  was 
such,  that  nature  could  speak  to  her  heart  in  its 
low,  but  earnest  voice,  a  language  free  from 
human  perverted  passion.  She  listened  to  this 
voice.  Her  heart  felt  its  breathings,  and  an- 
swered to  them  as  the  murmuring  aeolean  answers 
to  the  gentle  breeze  that  seeks  caressingly  its 
yielding  strings. 

"  This  is  my  first  strong  trial :"  thus  she  thought 
after  a  time — "the  first  temptation  my  woman's 
heart  has  had  to  endure.  How  easily  might  I 
have  fallen  into  this  snare,  but  for  the  right  in- 


72  THE    MAIDEN. 

structions,  and  the  protecting  sphere  of  a  true- 
iiiindecl  mother.  She  gave  me  right  principles  by 
which  to  estimate  all  things  around  me,  and 
guided  my  opening  affections  to  things  pure  and 
elevated.  Had  I  not  been  blessed  with  such  a 
mother  —  so  wise,  so  thoughtful,  so  judicious  — 
my  weak  heart  might  have  been  dazzled  by  a  bril- 
liant offer,  and  I  led  to  accept  it,  to  the  destruction 
of  all  my  best  hopes  here,  and  perhaps  hereafter." 

Anna  slightly  shuddered  as  this  idea  came 
vividly  before  her  mind. 

Some  readers  may  think,  that  the  little  know- 
ledge Anna  had  of  the  character  of  Gardiner,  was 
not  enough  to  cause  her  to  feel,  in  rejecting  his 
suit,  so  strongly  as  here  represented.  Let  such  a 
one  know,  that  a  maiden  with  moral  feelings 
as  pure  and  unselfish  as  were  those  of  Anna  Lee, 
needs  but  to  have  a  corner  of  the  veil  lifted,  in 
order  to  enable  her  to  determine  the  quality  of  a 
lover's  mind.  As  the  quality  of  the  whole  ocean 
may  be  determined  by  that  of  a  single  drop,  so 
may  she,  by#a  single  clearly-spen  phase  of  his 
moral  character,  determine  its  whole  character. 
And  Anna  Lee  did  so.  Not  fully,  at  first,  but 
undoubtingly ;  when,  added  to  her  rational  convic- 
tions, came  an  instinctive  feeling  of  repulsion 
towards  him,  as  one  who  was  impure,  and  deeply 
selfish. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TRIED    AND    PROVED. 

ANNA  shrunk  from  meeting  her  parent,  on  the 
next  morning.  What  would  be  her  father's  views 
of  the  course  she  had  taken,  she  could  not  tell. 
She  believed  that  he  would  not  for  a  moment  hesi- 
tate to  approve  her  declaration ;  and  yet  doubt 
would  cross  her  mind,  and  disturb  her  young  heart 
to  its  very  centre. 

When  the  breakfast  bell  rung,  she  descended 
from  her  chamber.  Her  first  glance  was  at  her 
mother's  face.  The  expression  of  that  told  her 
instantly,  that  all  was  not  right.  She  did  not  look 
at  her  father  for  some  time  after.  At  length  her 
eyes  sought  his  countenance ;  it  was  thoughtful, 
and  somewhat  stern.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Did 
he  wish  her  to  marry  a  man  against  whom  her 
whole  heart  revolted?  It  could  not  be!  Yet 
why  this  change  ? 

So  deeply  did  the  unhappiness  evidently  felt 
by  her  mother,  and  the  stern  look  of  her  father, 
effect  Anna,  that  she  found  it  impossible  to  swal- 
low her  food,  and  soon  retired  from  the  table. 
7  ('3) 


74-  THE    MAIDEN. 

Before  Mr.  Lee  left  the  house,  he  took  his  wife 
aside,  and  said,  in  a  serious  voice  — 

"  Anna :  you  must  not  let  this  matter  go  to  rest 
at  once.  An  offer  of  marriage,  such  as  this,  can 
never  be  had  again  for  our  daughter.  Think! 
Herbert  Gardiner  is  the  only  son  of  one  of  our 
wealthiest  and  most  esteemed  citizens.  The  cha- 
racter of  the  family  is  untainted,  and  that  of  the 
young  man,  as  far  as  my  knowledge  goes,  unex- 
ceptionable. What  folly,  then,  for  our  child  to 
refuse  such  an  offer  on  the  mere  pretence  of  a 
repulsion  of  spheres.  For  that,  if  I  understand  it, 
is  the  only  objection  urged." 

"  Do  you  not  believe,  husband,"  returned  Mrs. 
Lee,  in  a  voice  almost  sad,  "  in  the  doctrine,  that 
around  every  individual  is  a  sphere  of  his  moral 
qualities,  as  perceptible  to  the  moral  sense  of 
another  in  whom  that  sense  has  not  become  obtuse, 
as  is  the  sphere  of  the  quality  of  a  rose,  in  its 
odor,  around  the  rose,  and  perceptible  to  the 
physical  sense  P 

"  That  doctrine  is  no  doubt  true,  but — " 

"And  do  you  not  believe,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Lee,    "that   our  Anna's  moral   sense   is   unper 
verted  ?" 

"  I  do." 

"Is  it  not  well,  then,  to  regard  its  response 


TRIED    AND    PROVED. 

as  readily  as  you  would  regard  the  response  of 
your  tongue,  when  brought  in  contact  with  a  dele- 
terious or  offensive  substance  ?" 

"  True  in  the  abstract,"  replied  Mr.  Lee, 
whose  usually  well  balanced  mind  had  been 
thrown  from  its  just  equipoise  by  the  flattering 
and  externally  advantageous  offer  made  to  his  child. 
— "  But  I  am  not  so  sure  that  it  is  true  in  its  prac- 
tical applications  now." 

"  I  believe  that  it  is,"  Mrs.  Lee  firmly  replied. 
"And,  as  the  mother  of  Anna,  I  would  rather 
see  her  laid,  in  her  maiden  sweetness,  in  the 
grave,  than  become  the  wife  of  a  man  for  whom 
she  has  so  strong  a  feeling  of  repulsion  as  that 
entertained  towards  Gardiner, — no  matter  what 
external  advantages  might  be  offered.  External 
advantages !  What  are  these,  my  dear  husband ' 
when  set  against  internal  discordance?  Nothing. 
Nothing !  Dust  in  the  balance !" 

Mr.  Lee  still  looked  grave.  The  offer  of  Gardi- 
ner had  flattered  a  certain  weakness  in  his'cha- 
racter,  and  obscured  the  good  sense  for  which  he 
was  distinguished.  Mrs.  Lee  had  also  felt  greatly 
pleased.  But  her  interview  with  Anna  had  made 
all  right  so  far  as  she  was  concerned. 

The  conversation  which  passed  between  the 
father  and  mother  on  the  preceding  evening,  was, 


76  THE    MAIDEN. 

perhaps,  the  most  unpleasant  ever  held  by  them. 
Mr.  Lee  would  not  hear  to  Anna's  objection,  and 
Mrs.  Lee  was  equally  firm  in  sustaining  her  daugh- 
ter in  the  position  she  had  taken.  The  discussion 
was  kept  up  for  a  long  time,  and  ceased  at  last, 
not  in  the  settlement  of  the  difference,  but  in  the 
unsatisfied  and  unhappy  silence  of  both  parties. 
The  morning,  it  has  been  seen,  presented  no  better 
aspect  to  the  affair. 

Still  unreconciled  to  his  daughter's  objection  to 
Gardiner,  Mr.  Lee  left  home,  and  went  to  his 
office.  Nothing  more  passed  between  Anna  and 
her  mother  on  the  subject  during  the  morning. 
Both  avoided  speaking  about  it.  At  dinner  time, 
Mr.  Lee  was  grave  and  silent.  His  manner  affected 
Anna  so  painfully,  that  she  was  obliged  to  leave 
the  table.  As  she  did  so,  her  father  glanced  at  her, 
and  saw  that  her  eyes  were  not  only  full  of  tears, 
but  that  large  drops  were  falling  over  her  cheeks. 

Anxiously  did  Anna  wait  for  his  return  at  even- 
ing, in  order,  once  more,  to  look  into  his  face,  in 
the  hope  that  its  coldness  would  have  passed 
away.  But  the  more  Mr.  Lee  thought  about  the 
matter,  the  more  he  was  dissatisfied.  There  was, 
therefore,  no  light  in  his  countenance  for  his 
daughter's  eye.  There  still  rested  a  heavy  cloud 
upon  his  brow.  This  continued  for  three  days ;  at 


TRIED  AND  PROVED  77 

Ihe  end  of  which  period,  he  was  to  give  an  answer 
to  the  application  made  by  Gardiner.  The  nearer 
the  time  approached  for  meeting  the  young  man, 
the  more  unhappy  did  Mr.  Lee  appear  in  the  pre- 
sence of  his  family.  On  the  morning  of  the  day 
on  which  a  reply  to  Gardiner's  proposition  was  to 
be  given,  he  seemed  unusually  grave.  Poor  Anna 
was  wretched.  Never  in  her  life  had  she  suffered 
so  acutely.  She  loved  her  father  with  the  purest 
feelings — with  the  deepest  tenderness ; — there  was 
no  sacrifice  that  she  dared  make,  that  would  not 
have  been  made  for  his  sake,  cheerfully.  But 
more  had  been  asked  than  she  could,  in  con- 
science, do.  For,  with  her,  the  marriage  rite  was 
felt  to  be  a  religious  ceremony,  and  the  marriage 
union  one  that  should  be  made  in  the  sight  of 
heaven,  —  thus  she  had  been  taught  to  regard 
them  by  her  mother,  who,  since  her  seventeenth 
birthday,  had  sought,  gently  and  almost  uncon- 
sciously to  her  child,  to  lead  her  to  think  of  mar- 
riage as  the  most  holy  act  of  a  woman's  life. 

There  were  times,  it  is  true,  when  she  felt  like 
yielding  to  her  father's  wishes ;  or,  to  what  she 
nad  the  strongest  reasons  for  believing  were  his 
wishes — of  giving  herself  up,  passively,  if  her 
heart  wore  crushed  in  doing  so.  But  the  precepts 
of  her  mother  had  been  too  deeply  stored  in  her 
7* 


78  THE    MAIDEN. 

mind.  She  understood  clearly,  that  in  the  sight 
of  heaven,  she  dared  not  make  such  a  sacrifice. 
That  marriage  was  too  holy  a  thing  to  be  per- 
verted. 

Anna  knew  that  on  this  day  an  answer  would 
have  to  be  given  to  Mr.  Gardiner  —  and  she. 
therefore,  understood  why  her  father  seemed  more 
than  usually  oppressed  in  his  feelings.  After  he 
had  gone  out,  she  went  up  to  her  own  room, 
and  there  spent  the  whole  morning  alone.  Anx- 
iously did  she  await  his  return  at  dinner  time. 
As  the  hour  of  his  coming  approached,  the  un- 
happy girl  became  more  and  more  wretched.  An 
undefined  fear  took  hold  of  her — a  dread  of  some 
impending  evil.  When  the  clock  struck  three, 
and  she  heard,  soon  after,  her  father's  well  known 
footstep  along  the  passage,  and  on  the  stairs,  her 
heart  stood  almost  still.  Mr.  Lee  went  direct  to 
his  wife's  chamber.  Ten  minutes  more  of  anxious 
suspense  passed,  when  Anna  heard  the  ringing  of 
her  mother's  bell.  A  domestic  went  up  to  her 
room.  Then  the  steps  of  the  same  domestic  were 
heard  ascending  to  her  chamber.  The  door  opened. 
"  Your  mother  wishes  to  see  you." 
The  maiden  started,  and  turned  as  pale  as  death. 
But  she  obeyed  the  summons,  though  with  a  sinking 
heart.  At  her  mother's  door  she  paused  for  nearly 


TRIED    AND    PROVTTD.  79 

ft  minute,  and  strove,  by  a  powerful  effort,  to  sub- 
due her  agitated  feelings ;  but  she  strove  in  vain. 
When  she  entered,  she  was  hardly  conscious  of 
anything  beyond  a  fear  of  something  undefined. 
But  her  eyes  sought  instantly  her  father's  face. 
A  great  change  had  taken  place.  Instead  of  th 
stern,  cold,  offended  look  that  his  countenance  had 
worn  for  three  days,  it  was  subdued,  and  tender, 
and  full  of  affection.  He  reached  his  hand  towards 
her,  and  she  sprang  into  his  arms,  and  sunk  weep- 
ing upon  his  bosom. 

"  Dear  father !  you  love  me  still !"  she  at  length 
murmured,  lifting  her  head,  and  looking  him  in 
the  face. 

"  Love  you,  my  child  ?  I  have  always  loved 
you ;  but  now  more  deeply  than  ever." 

"Then  I  am  happy — happy!"  she  said,  again 
letting  her  head  fall  upon  his  breast.  I  want  no 
other  love  but  the  love  that  makes  this  home  so 
sweet.  It  is  the  first  love — the  best  love — and 
the  most  unselfish  of  all." 

Mr.  Lee  drew  his  arm  tightly  around  his  child, 
as  a  response  to  the  sentiment  she  had  just  uttered. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,"  he  said,  "  the  loves  that 
make  our  childhood's  home  happy,  are  the  most 
unselfish.  May  they  be  long  continued  to  us." 

"Amen,"  was  the  solemn  response,  breathed 


80  THE    MAIDEN. 

half  involuntarily,  yet  sweetly,  by  the  maiden,  aft 
she  clasped  tightly  her  father's  hand. 

Mrs.  Lee's  eyes  were  full  of  tears;  but  her 
whole  face  was  elevated  and  glad.  She  looked 
calmly  on  the  scene  passing  before  her,  silently 
ifting  her  heart  in  thankfulness  for  so  good  a  child. 

"  Will  you  pardon  the  late  strangeness  of  my 
manner  towards  you,  Anna?"  Mr.  Lee  said,  after 
a  little  while,  raising  his  daughter  up,  and  looking 
into  her  face. 

"Do  not  speak  of  it,  father,"  she  returned, 
quickly.  "If  you  love  me  —  if  you  do  not 
blame  me — if  you  will  let  me  still  call  this  my 
home,  and  you  my  best  beloved,  I  ask  E.O  more. 
My  cup  will  be  full ;  full  to  the  brim." 

"  Blame  you,  Anna  ?  No  !  If  there  has  been 
any  blame,  I  must  bear  it.  You  have  been  right. 
Love  you?  We  cannot  tell  you  hoAv  much  we 
love  you.  And  may  the  day  be  far  distant  when 
you  shall  go  to  another  home !" 

"  You  have  made  me  happier,  dear  father,  than 
I  have  ever  been,"  Anna  said,  struggling  to  hide 
the  emotion  that  was  swelling  in  her  bosom. 
"  Do  not  again  feel  offended  with  me.  You  have 
taught  me  to  act  frjm  a  sense  of  right  in  all 
I  do,  —  you  have  wisely  sought  to  elevate  my 
understanding,  and  have  given  me  principles  by 


TRIED    AND    PROVED.  81 

which  to  determine  all  my  actions.  These  prin- 
ciples I  will  ever  strive  to  make  rules  of  conduct. 
By  them  I  will  seek  to  determine  between  right 
and  wrong,  and  choosing  the  right,  I  will  en 
deavour  to  abide  by  it,  in  all  firmness  and  con- 
scientiousness." 

"  Do  so,  my  child,  even  if  your  father,  strange 
as  such  a  thing  may  be,  should  rise  up  in  opposi- 
tion. Obey  him  just  so  far  as  he  wishes  you  to 
to  obey  the  truth  he  has  taught  you,  but  no  fur- 
ther. You  are  now  a  woman,  and  by  your  own 
acts  you  must  be  justified  or  condemned.  Take 
no  step  in  life,  without  a  clear  perception  that  it 
is  right.  Seek  aid  and  light  from  all  who  are 
wi^er  than  yourself,  but  let  their  wisdom  guide 
you,  if  guided  by  others  at  all.  If  you  cannot  see 
with  them,  do  not  act  from  them.  Avoid  this, 
as  you  would  a  great  evil." 

After  a  slight  pause,  Mr.  Lee  added, 
"  I  saw  Mr.  Gardiner  to-day,  and  declined  from 
you  his  offer.  Deeply  thankful  am  I  that  you 
had  the  resolution  to  refuse  him.  You  acted  with 
(rue  wisdom,  and  ,a  noble  firmness  that  I  shall 
ever  admire.  Of  all  that  occurred,  your  mother 
will  inform  you  at  another  time." 


CHAPTER 

A     DISAPPOINTMENT. 

WHEN  Mr.  Lee  went  to  his  office  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  day  named  as  that  on  which  he  was  to 
pve  an  answer  to  Herbert  Gardiner,  he  felt  in  a 
very  uncomfortable  state  of  mind.  The  cause  for 
this  was  two-fold.  First,  he  could  not  help  feel- 
ing a  strong  desire  for  the  proposed  union ;  and 
second,  he  felt  that  the  interview  with  the  young 
man,  would  be  an  embarrassing  one.  But  it  could 
not  be  avoided. 

He  was  sitting  in  his  own  private  room,  about 
eleven  o'clock,  when  Gardiner  came  in,  smiling 
pleasantly,  and  bowing  with  perfect  ease  and  self- 
possession.  But  in  a  few  minutes  his  manner 
changed.  The  disturbed  state  of  Mr.  Lee's  mind 
was  communicated  to  his  own. 

"You  know  the  nature  of  my  business,  Mr. 
Lee,"  he  said,  after  talking  indifferently  for  a 
short  time.  "  What  is  the  answer  I  am  to  re- 
ceive at  your  hands  ?" 

"I  regret  exceedingly,"  returned  Mr.  Lee,  "to 

(82) 


A   DISAPPOINTMENT.  83 

be  compelled  to  decline  your  very  flattering  offer ; 
but  my  daugluer  is  firm  in  her  opposition  to  our 
wishes  in  the  matter.  We  have — " 

"  Your  daughter  objects  ?"  the  young  man  said, 
with  an  instantly  flushed  face,  rising  quickly  to 
his  feet.  "  Humph !" 

There  was  an  air  of  contempt  and  conscious 
superiority  in  the  manner  of  Gardiner,  that 
seriously  offended  Mr.  Lee. 

"  Yes  sir,"  he  said,  his  own  manner  also  chang- 
ing. "  She  objects,  and  she,  doubtless,  has  good 
reasons  for  it ;  for  she  never  acts  from  prejudice  or 
caprice." 

"  Ha !  ha  !  Don't  she  indeed  ?"  The  young 
man  had  lost  control  of  himself,  and  spoke  very 
contemptuously.  He  was  quick-tempered,  proud, 
and  could  ill  bear  anything  like  opposition.  The 
unexpected  rejection  of  his  suit  from  one  whose 
social  position  was  below  his,  had  chafed  him 
•cverely. 

Mr.  Lee's  eyes  were  fixed  instantly  upon  the 
young  man  \vith  a  rebuking  look.  This,  while  it 
made  him  conscious  of  the  error  he  was  commit- 
ting, did  not  tend  to  soothe  the  sudden  irritation 
of  his  mind.  For  nearly  a  minute  he  returned  Mr. 
Lee's  steady  gaze ;  and  then  with  a  muttered  oath, 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  from  the  room. 


84  THE    MAIDEN. 

The  father  of  Anna  drew  a  long  breath,  as  soon 
as  he  found  himself  alone  —  sat  with  eyes  upon 
the  floor  for  some  time,  and  then  got  up,  and 
walked  to  and  fro,  in  a  deeply  abstracted  mood. 
While  doing  so,  one  of  the  Directors  of  the  Com- 
pany, of  which  he  was  the  President,  an  intimate 
friend,  came  in.  He  noticed  that  Lee  was  dis- 
turbed, and  inquired  the  reason ;  when  the  inter- 
view just  had  was  related. 

"The  puppy!"  ejaculated  the  friend.  "An^ 
he  really  had  the  assurance  to  offer  himself  to  your 
sweet  Anna  ?" 

"  He  offered  himself,"  replied  Mr.  Lee,  "  but 
why  should  that  be  called  assurance." 

"  Humph !     You  certainly  don't  know  him." 

"  I  never  heard  a  breath  against  him,  in  my  life." 

"  I  have  then ;  and  words  too.  Why,  this  Her- 
bert Gardiner,  is  no  more  fit  for  the  husband  of  a 
pure-minded  creature  like  Anna,  than  I  am  to 
consort  with  an  angel  of  the  third  heaven !" 

"  You  speak  strongly." 

"  Not  more  so  than  I  should  speak.  It  is 
strange  that  you  have  never  heard  his  character 
I  thought  that  was  notorious." 

"  He  is  in  .business  with  a  very  excellent  young 
man." 

"  Oh  yes ;  his  capital  does  that.     But  a  business 


A   DISAPPOINTMENT.  85 

connexion  and  a  marriage  are  two  very  different 
things.  I  might  be  willing  to  enter  into  business 
relations  with  a  man,  that  I  should  not  like  to  see 
tin;  husband  of  my  daughter." 

"  Very  true.  But  tell  me  something  specific 
about  Gardiner." 

"  He  is,  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  words,  a 
man  about  town.  Do  you  understand  what  that 
means  ?" 

"  I  do.     But  are  you  certain  ?" 

"  I  know  it  to  be  the  case.  His  associates  are 
often  of  the  vilest  character,  and  his  habits  ex- 
ceedingly irregular.  Depend  upon  it,  he  would 
have  cursed  your  child  in  marrying  her.  From 
all  I  have  seen  and  heard  of  that  young  man,  I 
would  sooner  see  Anna  in  her  grave  than  his 
wife !» 

"  Thank  Heaven !  There  is  no  danger  of  such 
a  sacrifice.  But  why  should  he  have  sought  my 
daughter's  hand  ?" 

"  It  is  a  tribute  to  her  loveliness.  Even  one 
like  him  could  bow  before  it.  But  the  love  of 
mere  external  grace  and  beauty  by  a  man  without 
principle,  is  only  of  brief  duration.  These  do  not 
minister  long  to  his  selfishness  —  and  then  the 
flower  that  charmed  for  a  brief  season  is  thrown 
8 


86  THE  MAIDEN. 

aside  with   indifference,  or  trampled  upon  with 
scorn." 

When  Mr.  Lee  returned  home,  his  feelings 
were  widely  different  from  those  with  which  he 
had  left  his  family  in  the  morning.  The  reader 
has  seen  th<*  change. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  COLD  AND  CALCULATING  LOVER. 

"An,  William!  is  it  you,"  said  Mrs.  Leslie, 
coming  into  her  parlour.  "  Thomas  only  said  that  a 
gentleman  had  called  to  see  me.  The  stupid  fel- 
low !  I  thought  he  could  recollect  your  face." 

"  And  did !  but,  like  a  great  many  other  gentle- 
men (for  I  should  call  your  Thomas  a  gentleman), 
he  is  deficient,  no  doubt,  in  the  memory  of  names." 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  a  very  good  humour  with 
yourself,  this  morning,  William  ?" 

"O  yes.  That's  always  the  case.  Why 
shouldn't  I?  This  is  a  very  pleasant  world,  if  a 
man  will  but  have  sense  enough  to  take  his  share 
of  the  good  things  of  life,  as  they  are  going.  But 


A  COLD  AND  CALCULATING  LOVER.  •    87 

I  have  called  upon  you  on  a  particular  business, 
Mrs.  Leslie." 

"  You  have  ?» 

"  Yes.  And  first,  1  want  to  know  whether,  in 
an  affair  of  the  heart — h-hemf — I  can  confide  in 
you  implicitly  ?" 

The  face  of  Mrs.  Leslie  brightened  up. 

•'  Confide  in  me  ?  Of  course  you  can,"  she 
replied,  affecting  a  slightly  offended  air. 

"  Very  well.  Then  I  want  to  have  a  good  long 
talk  with  you." 

"  But,  surely,  this  isn't  my  young  friend,  Wil- 
liam Archer?  And  are  you  really  smitten  with 
the  bright  eyes  of  some  charming  maiden  ?  I  am 
delighted  to  hear  it." 

"  Hem !  Not  too  fast,  Mrs.  Leslie.  I  can't  ex- 
actly say  that  I  am  downright  in  love ;  for  I  don't 
think  it  is  in  me  to  love  any  one  very  deeply, 
except  my  humble  self.  But  it  strikes  me,  that  I 
ought  to  begin  to  calculate  the  main  chance — to 
look  to  the  future.  I  am  now  twenty-seven,  and 
have  gone  on  at  a  pretty  wild  rate.  Though  I 
don't  think  I  am  quite  so  bad  as  some  good  sort  of 
people  are  disposed  to  think  me.  They  talk 
pretty  hard  of  me,  sometimes,  don't  they  ?" 

Mrs.  Leslie  assumed  a  grave  face,  as  became 
her,  and  replied, — 


00  •  THE    MAIDEN. 

"  It 's  a  fact,  William ;  you  are  spoken  of,  pretty 
severely.  But  I  have  always  taken  your  part. 

1  knew  there  was  good  in  you." 

"  As  there  is  in  every  one.  Thank  you —  thank 
you,  my  friend.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  have 
Deen  going  on,  for  the  last  six  or  seven  years,  at  a 
wild  rate,  and  am  beginning  to  fear  that,  if  I  don't 
sober  down  a  little,  it  will  not  be  qCute  so  good 
for  me  in  the  end.  Now,  how  shall  I  sober  down? 
that  is  the  question  ?" 

"  Get  a  sweet  little  wife." 

" That's  just  my  own  opinion.  And  here  I 
want  your  advice.  If  I  marry,  it  must  be  either 
for  love  or  money.  Or  rather,  my  wife  must  be 
the  loveliest  woman  to  be  found;  or  she  must 
have  some  substantial  virtues.  One  or  the  other 
of  these  is  indispensable.  And  I  will  tell  you 
why.  Between  you  and  myself,  I  have  got  nearly 
to  the  end  of  my  rope.  My  father  left  me  a  fair 
property,  but  it's  pretty  well  all  used  up — in  what 
way,  it  is  now  no  good  to  mention.  It  is  enough 
that  it  has  taken  to  itself  wings  and  flown  away." 

"  You  surprise  me,  William  !" 

"  It  is  true  ;  and  there  is  now  no  use  of  crying 
over  it.  My  only  wise  course  is,  to  make  an 
effort  to  better  my  fortune.  I  have  looked  around 
roe  for  some  time,  and  have,  finally,  selected 


A    COLD    AND    CALClfLATING    LOVER.  S9 

two  young  ladies,  between  whom  my  choice  must 
lie.  There  are  plenty  to  choose  from ;  but,  some 
that  I  would  like  to  be  on  very  amiable  terms 
with,  seem  inclined  to  give  me  the  cold  shoulder. 
One  of  the  two,  I  have  selected,  1  would  prefer 
to  the  other.  But,  if  she  is  not  to  be  had,  the 
other  is ;  at  least  I  think  so»" 

"  Don't  be  too  sanguine.  But  name  your 
choice  ;  and  then  I  can  tell  you  better." 

"  I  may  count  on  your  aid  1" 

"  Oh,  certainly.  You  needn't  doubt  that  for  a 
moment.  But,  why  do  you  think  of  anything 
beside  a  wife  with  money,  if  matters  are  becoming 
desperate  with  you  ?" 

"  I  have  an  old  uncle,  who  is  rich  as  a  Jew." 

"  So  you  have." 

"  But,  the  old  rascal  has  blown  me  up  sevenil 
times,  for  my  free  way  of  living.  When  he  finds 
out  that  I  have  run  through  my  patrimony,  he 
will  cut  me  off,  I  am  afraid,  without  a  dollar. 
But,  if  I  have  the  sweet  creature  for  a  wife  I 
have  fixed  my  eyes  upon,  she  will  soften  his 
heart  right  down,  and  take  me,  for  her  own  dear 
sake,  at  once  into  his  good  graces.  I  know  the 
old  fellow's  weakness." 

"  Ah !  That 's  your  game !  You  calculate  with 
8* 


90  THE    MAIDEN. 

coolness.     Now  lell  me  who  this  charming  crea 
ture  is.     Am  I  acquainted  with  her  ?" 

"  Yes.  Her  name  is  Anna  Lee.  I  first  sa\V 
her  in  your  house." 

Mrs.  Leslie  looked  grave. 

"No  chance  for  me,  then  t"  inquired  the  young 
man. 

"I'm  afraid  not." 

"  Is  she  engaged  ?' 

"  No.  But  she  has  just  declined  one  of  the 
best  offers  in  the  city — an  offer  favoured  by  her 
parents." 

"  She  has  ?  Who  is  the  disappointed  lover, 
pray?" 

"  Herbert  Gardiner." 

"  Possible !  Has  he  offered  himself,  and  been 
refused  ?» 

"  Yes.  And  angry  enough  he  is  about  it.  I 
think  the  girl  was  a  great  fool ;  —  indeed  I  know 
she  was.  But  it's  her  own  look  out." 

"  There  may  be  a  chance  for  me,  though,  for  all 
that." 

"I  should  very  much  doubt  it.  And  I'll  tell 
you  why.  My  opinion  is,  that  she  has  heard 
something  about  Gardiner's  habits,  and  has  been 
silly  enough  to  make  that  an  objection,  as  if  any 
young  men  were  as  pure  as  saints." 


A    COLD    AND    CALCULATING    LOv^ER.  91 

"  Ho !  ho !"  laughed  Archer. 

"  I  imagine  that  here  lies  the  gist  of  the  whole 
matter.  And,  as  report  says  a  great  deal  more 
about  you  than  it  does  about  Gardiner,  I  should 
think  your  chance  with  the  girl  not  worth  speak- 
ing about." 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  that.  She  is  certainly  a 
lovely  creature.  And  now  that  she  has  sent  Gar- 
diner off,  I  should  like,  above  all  things,  to  make 
a  conquest  of  her." 

"  It  would  be  something  of  which  to  be  proud. 
But,  as  I  said  before,  I  don't  believe  you  have 
even  the  smallest  chance  of  success.  Who  is  the 
other  young  lady,  on  whom  you  have  fixed  your 
eye  ?" 

"  Florence  Armitage." 

"  Ah !     Her  father  is  not  so  very  wealthy." 

"  No,  not  so  rich  as  Croesus.  Still  he  may  be 
worth  some  forty  or  fifty  thousand  now,  and  is  in 
the  way  of  being  worth  three  times  as  much  in 
the  next  ten  years.  He  is  doing,  at  this  time,  so 
I  have  clearly  ascertained,  about  the  best  business 
of  any  man  in  the  city." 

"  I  can't  say  that  Florence  is  a  favourite  with 
me." 

"  Nor  with  me  either.  She  lacks  maidenly  re- 
serve, and  that  sensitiveness  of  feeling  so  beautiful 


92  THE    MAIDEN. 

in  a  young  woman.  Do  you  know,  that  she  once 
as  good  as  asked  me  to  take  her  to  see  Fanny 
Ellsler  kick  up  her  heels  in  a  style  that  I  shouldn't 
like  my  sister,  if  I  had  one,  to  witness?" 

"  You  took  her  ?" 

"  O  yes ;  how  could  I  help  it  1  She  was  de- 
lighted, and  called  the  Ellsler's  dancing  by  all  sorts 
of  charming  names ;  while  I,  who  am  pretty  much 
of  a  sinner,  and  hard  to  put  to  the  blush,  felt  h^lf 
ashamed  to  look  the  girl  in  the  face." 

"Humph!" 

"  I  can  get  her  for  the  asking,  I  know.  But  I 
want  to  try  Anna  Lee.  She  is  much  more  to  be 
desired,  portionless,  even  by  me,  than  Florence  is, 
with  all  her  expectations." 

"  Your  chance,  I  must  again  say,  is  a  very  poor 
one."  * 

"  Do  you  think  it  useless  to  try  ?" 

"Almost.  But,  it  is  said,  there  is  nothing  like 
trying." 

"  Will  you  aid  me  v> 

"All  in  my  power.  But  she  hasn't  been  to 
see  me  since  her  affair  with  Gardiner  came  to  an 
issue  ;  and  I  am  not  sure  that  she  intends  visiting 
me  again." 

"  You  must  send  for  her.     How  soon  are  you 


A  COLD  AND  CALCULATING  LOVER.      9J 

going  to  have  another  of  your  pleasant  gatherings1 
Pretty  soon  ?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  How  soon  ?  I  wish  to  strike  while  the  iron 
is  hot." 

"  In  two  or  three  weeks." 

"  Can't  you  say  next  week  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Next  week  will  be  here  very 
speedily." 

"  Can't  you,  just  for  my  sake  ?" 

"  I  like  to  be  obliging,  especially  to  my  young 
friends.  Perhaps  I  may  be  able  to  do  so." 

"  Say  you  will." 

"  No,  no,  Mr.  Impatience !  I  shall  do  no  such 
thing.  If  all  things  conspire,  I  will  have  com- 
pany next  week.  But  don't  forget  the  adage  — 
'  There  is  luck  in  leisure ;'  and  that  it  is  specially 
applicable  in  matters  of  this  kind." 

"  I  '11  win  her,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  William 
Archer !"  said  the  young  man,  his  confidence  in- 
creasing, the  more  he  thought  about  Anna  Lee. 

"  Don't  be  too  certain.  Anna  has  a  cool  head, 
as  well  as  a  warm  heart." 

"  I  know.  But  every  young  lady  has  her  weak 
point,  and  I'll  try  hard  to  find  out  hers.  Once 
certain  of  that,  and  I  am  safe." 


CHAPTER  X. 

I     SCHEME    TO    ENTRAP    THE    HEART    OF 

ANNA    LEE. 

ABOUT  a  week  after  the  interview  between  Mrs. 
Leslie  and  young  Archer,  as  described  in  the  last 
chapter,  a  note  was  left  for  Anna  Lee,  containing 
an  invitation  for  her  to  spend  an  evening  at  the 
house  of  the  former.  "  A  few  friends  are  to  be 
present,"  was  added  to  the  note. 

"What  have  you  there?"  asked  Mrs.  Lee, 
coming  into  Anna's  room,  about  ten  minutes  after, 
and  finding  her  daughter  sitting  in  a  thoughtful 
mood,  with  Mrs.  Leslie's  invitation  in  her  hand. 

Anna  gave  her  mother  the  note.  After  reading 
it,  she  handed  it  back,  and  said  with  a  smile  — 

"  Mrs.  Leslie  is  very  kind,  always  to  remember 
jou  when  she  has  company." 

«  Yes." 

This  response  was  cold,  and  made  in  an  equivo- 
cal tone.  Anna  said  nothing  more,  and  Mrs. 
Lee  did  not  refer  more  particularly  to  the  subject. 
On  the  day  before  the  one  to  which  the  invitation 
had  referred,  Anna  said  to  her  mother — 

(94) 


A    SCHEME.  95 

"  After  thinking  a  good  deal  about  it,  I  have 
made  up  my  inind  not  to  go  to  Mrs.  Leslie's  to- 
morrow, nor  ever  again," 

"  Have  you  a  good  reason  1" 

"  Perhaps  not  one  that  I  could  make  full}  plain 
to  everybody.  But  I  think  you  can  understand 
me.  I  don't  feel  right,  when  I  think  of  going 
there." 

"  There  must  be  some  reasons  for  such  a  feeling." 

"  And  there  are.  But  even  these  reasons  are 
so  linked  with  feelings,  that  my  mind  cannot  sepa- 
rate and  give  them  distinctness." 

"  Freely  state  to  me  all  your  reasons  and  feel- 
ings," said  the  mother.  "  Perhaps,  together,  we  can 
arrive  at  a  distinct,  rational  conclusion." 

"  I  have  liked  Mrs.  Leslie,  because  she  always 
seemed  pleased  to  have  me  visit  her,  and  showed 
me  very  kind  attentions,"  Anna  remarked.  "  But, 
at  the  same  time,  there  has  been  something  about 
her  that  I  could  not  understand,  and  from  which 
I  have  felt  an  involuntary  shrinking.  She  is  the 
intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Gardiner ;  and,  I  think,  must 
be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  his  character  and 
habits.  She  may  be  a  woman  of  sound  principles ; 
but  my  mind  has  many  doubts.  Any  how,  I  do 
not  wish  to  meet  Mr.  Gardiner,  as  I  certainly 
shall,  if  I  go  to  her  house." 


96  THE   MAIDEN. 

"And  the  invitation  may  only  be  intended  to 
procure  a  meeting  between  you  and  that  young 
man,"  suggested  Mrs.  Lee. 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"You  say,  that  there  was  always  something 
about  Mrs.  Leslie  that  repulsed  you  ?" 

"  Yes.  Something  that  seemed  instantly  to 
assault  my  purest  and  best  feelings.  I  do  not 
recollect,  now  I  begin  to  think  of  it,  that  I  ever 
heard  her  declare  a  high  principle  of  action.  I 
am  sure  I  have  heard  very  wrong  sentiments 
uttered  by  young  ladies,  in  her  presence,  to 
which  she  never  opposed  the  truth.  For  all  she 
had  pleasant  words.  All  she  aimed  to  please. 
But  is  it  good  to  be  constantly  flattered  and 
favoured,  and  never  opposed,  even  when  thinking 
and  speaking  wrong  ?  I  do  not  believe  so." 

"  Nor  is  it,  Anna.  No  true-minded  woman 
can  listen  to  wrong  sentiments  from  the  lips  of 
young  ladies,  without  correcting  them.  She  who 
fails  to  do  so,  is  not  just  to  her  sex." 

"  So  I  have  felt,  whenever  anything  led  me  to 
think  about  the  way  in  which  Mrs.  Leslie  treats 
the  man}'  young  persons  who  meet  at  her  house." 

"Does  she  talk  to  them  often  about  their 
beaux  ?»  v 

"•0  yes.      It    is  almost  her  constant  theme. 


A   SCHEME.  97 

She  is  sure  to  have  something  to  say  about  how 
much  this  or  that  one  is  pleased  with  you,  every 
time  you  meet  her.  To  me,  she  was  constantly 
dropping  something  about  Mr.  Gardiner." 

"  And,  no  doubt,  was  at  the  bottom  of  his  pro- 
posal to  you." 

"  I  have  never  thought  that."  And  Anna 
X)ked  up  into  her  mother's  face  with  surprise. 
"  But  it  may  be  true." 

"  I  now  understand  you  fully  ;"  Mrs.  Lee  said. 
"  You  are  right  in  not  wishing  to  go  to  her  house 
again.  I  would  not  have  you  do  so  on  any  account. 
Such  a  woman  is  a  young  maiden's  most  dangerous 
friend.  She  should  be  shunned  as  carefully  as 
you  would  shun  an  open  enemy." 

"  I  am  glad  you  feel  as  I  do  about  going  to  her 
house,"  returned  Anna,  seeming  much  relieved. 
"  Between  me  and  her,  there  is  nothing  really 
congenial.  I  take  no  pleasure  in  talking  all  the 
time  about  young  men :  and  she  seems  to  think 
there  is  no  theme  so  interesting — nothing  so  plea- 
sant to  a  maiden's  ear." 

There  was  a  gay  company  at  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Leslie,  on  the  next  evening.  But  Anna  was  not 
there.  Archer  did  not  arrive  till  late.  This  was 
intended. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Lee  ?"  he  asked,  drawing  Mrs. 
9 


98  '     THE    MAIDEN. 

Leslie  aside,  soon  after  he  came  in.  "I  dont  see 
her  here." 

"  No.  She  sent  me  a  note  declining  the  invi- 
tation." 

"  On  what  ground  ?" 

"  No  ground  at  all.  I  read  it  as  a  flat  refusal 
to  accept  my  invitation." 

«  What  did  she  say  ?" 

"She  thanked  me  for  my  kind  courtesy,  but 
begged,  for  reasons  not  necessary  to  explain,  so 
she  said,  to  be  excused." 

"  Confound  it  all!  It  is  too  bad!  Do  you  think 
she  suspected  the  whole  plan  ?" 

"  No.     How  should  she  ?» 

"I  must  and  will  see  her." 

"  If  you  can." 

"I'll  call  at  her  father's  house." 

"  0,  well.  You  can  do  that.  She  can't  decline 
going  there — or,  rather,  staying  there.  But,  what 
good  will  it  do  you  ?" 

"  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady." 

"  True.  And  a  fair  lady  can  usually  be  won, 
if  the  lover  persevere." 

"  The  very  thing  that  I  will  do.  I  will  break 
through  the  ice  by  calling  upon  her.  I  have  met 
her  often  enough  here  to  be  authorized  to  do  this." 

"And  after  that?" 


A   SCHEME.  99 

"  Once  let  me  get  at  the  maiden's  ear,  and  I 
will  try  hard  to  charm  it.  In  the  first  interview 
I  have  with  her,  I  will  sweep  the  whole  circle  of 
subjects  likely  to  interest  a  lady;  and  when  I  have 
found  the  right  one,  I  will  play  dexterously  upon 
that  string.  Before  leaving  her  I  will  succeed  in 
effecting  an  engagement  of  some  kind  or  other ; — 
to  go  to  church  or  opera;  concert  or  exhibition. 
At  a  second  meeting,  I  will  talk  of  virtue  and 
morality  like  any  saint ;  and  even  venture  to  hint 
something  about  early  errors  long  since  repented 
of,  and,  I  trust,  forgiven  by  God  and  man.  Don't 
you  think  I  will  make  my  way  into  her  confi- 
dence ?  After  gaining  a  few  of  the  outworks  to 
the  citadel  of  her  heart,  I  will  continue  to  approach 
with  great  caution ;  and  be  very  careful  not  to 
strike  foolishly,  like  Gardiner,  before  the  iron  is 
hot.  You  see,  I  understand  what  I  am  about." 

"Yes.  But  you  have  no  ordinary  person  to 
deal  with.  Anna  Lee  will  see  through  you  at  a 
glance,  and  act  with  a  promptness  such  as  you 
have  not  been  used  to  meeting  in  young  ladies 
To  me,  she  is  almost  too  perfect — too  free  from 
weakness." 

"  I  'm  sorry  for  that.  I  like  your  real  women. 
But  women-angels  are  a  little  above  my  com- 
prehension. I  don't  know  how  to  take  them. 


100  THE    MAIDEN. 

Still,  as  I  have  set  out,  I  shall  go  through  .he 
matter.  There  never  was  any  back-out  in  me, 
and  never  shall  be.  I  've  come  round  as  good  as 
she  is,  in  my  time,  and — " 

"  William !"  And  Mrs.  Leslie  raised  her  finger 
and  affected  a  grave  face. 

The  young  man,  who  was  about  to  venture,  as 
Mrs.  Leslie  perceived,  upon  a  boast  of  wickedness, 
became  silent,  but  showed  no  confusion.  He  had 
not  really  offended  the  lady  with  whom  he  was 
conversing,  that  he  could  plainly  see.  She  had 
only  checked  him  for  the  sake  of  appearances ;  and 
this  was  just  as  apparent  to  his  mind  as  it  was  to 
hers.  In  a  moment  he  resumed,  with  a  smile, 

"  I  know  I  'm  something  of  a  bad  boy ;  but  you 
can  forgive  me,  if  other  people  can't.  As  I  was 
saying,  I  never  suffer  myself  to  be  foiled  in  any- 
thing I  set  my  head  about ;  and  I  shall  not  be 
fo'.led  in  this." 

"  We  shall  see." 

"  So  we  shall.  And  if  I  don't  have  this  very 
coy  and  fastidious  young  lady  completely  caged 
before  a  month,  my  name  isn't  William  Archer." 

"  Success  to  your  adventure !" 

" Thank  you!  You  shall  dance  at  my  wed- 
ding, before  six  months." 

"  Not  if  you  marry  Anna  Lee." 


A   SCHEME.  101 

"Why*" 

"  She  has  thought  fit  to  declina  an  invitation  to 
my  house,  without  alleging  a  reason.  Such  con- 
duct from  persons  standing  on  my  own  level,  I 
should  not  pass  by ;  much  less  from  one  to  whom 
I  have  stooped — from  one  whom  I  have  been 
endeavouring  to  lift  from  her  native  obscurity. 
I  feel  no  unkindness  towards  the  girl ;  but  self- 
respect  will  not  permit  me  again  to  notice  her." 

"  Don't  talk  so  foolishly,  Mrs.  Leslie." 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  say,  William.  I  shall  not 
again  notice  the  girl." 

"  Suppose  she  makes  an  apology  ?  Will  that 
alter  the  face  of  things  ?" 

"  Certainly.  That  would  restore  former  rela- 
tions." 

"  She  shall  do  it !" 

Mrs.  Leslie  smiled. 

"  She  shall !  In  less  than  six  weeks  you  wril 
be  on  terms  of  the  closest  intimacy." 

In  thus  boasting  of  what  he  could  and  would 
accomplish,  the  young  man  was  not,  consciously, 
expending  mere  idle  breath.  Judging  from  his 
former  success  in  winning  his  way  into  the  fa- 
vourable regard  of  young  ladies,  he  believed  that 
he  would  again  be  successful.  He  had  much  in 
his  fi  vour,  so  far  as  externals  were  concerned. 
9* 


102  THE    MAIDEN. 

His  person  was  attractive,  his  manners  easy  and 
fascinating,  and  his  tastes  cultivated.  He  had 
spent  two  years  in  Europe,  and  had  come  home 
\vith  all  the  external  advantages  a  residence  on 
the  continent  gives  to  an  intelligent  mind,  and  all 
the  moral  defects  it  entails  upon  an  impure  one. 
In  heart  a  villain,  he  could  assume  the  air  of  a 
saint ;  and  he  was  ready  to  do  so  at  any  moment 
that  it  suited  his  purpose. 

Understanding  the  power  of  false  appearances, 
and  knowing  how  perfectly  he  could  assume  them, 
Archer  did  not  entirely  over  estimate  His  ability 
to  insinuate  himself  into  the  good  feelings  of  young 
ladies.  He  had  already  succeeded  in  doing  so,  in 
ntore  than  one  instance,  even  to  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  most  base  and  infamous  purposes ;  for 
which  he  was  execrated  by  many  virtuous  minds, 
and  by  none  more  deeply  than  by  Anna  Lee.  At 
the  same  time,  the  melancholy  truth  must  be  told, 
that  four-fifths  of  the  entire  number  of  those  who 
-vere  fully  conversant  with  all  the  sad  details  of 
his  base  conduct,  fathers,  mothers  and  daughters, 
welcomed  him  to  their  houses,  and  associated  with 
him  as  freely  and  as  cordially  as  before ;  while  the 
victims  of  his  infernal  passions  were  thrust  out, 
cast  down,  trampled  under  foot,  and  consigned  to 
hopeless  infamy !  How  the  heart  sickens  at  this 


CATCHING  HUSBANDS.  103 

picture !  Would  that  it  were  only  an  imaginary 
one !  Would  that  the  best  society  around  us  con- 
tained no  William  Archers,  or  that  it  had  the 
healthy  moral  force  to  throw  them  out,  as  base 
and  unworthy !  But  alas !  it  yet  lacks  this  healthy 
action  at  the  vitals.  And  this  fact  the  truly  pure 
and  good  ought  never  to  forget. 

But  we  will  pass  on,  and  see  how  far  the  young 
man  Archer  is  successful  in  his  efforts  to  woo  and 
win  the  heart  of  a  maiden,  whose  perceptions  of 
moral  qualities  are  so  acute  as  those  of  Anna  Lee 


CHAPTER  XL 

CATCHING    HUSBANDS. 

ANNA  LEE  sat  sewing  one  morning,  a  few  days 
after  she  had  declined  going  to  Mrs.  Leslie's, 
when  Florence  Armitage,  gaily  dressed,  called  in 
to  see  her.  There  were  many  things  about  Flo- 
rence that  pleased  Anna,  although  she  did  not 
approve  much  that  she  did  and  said.  Her  mother 
was  a  weak  woman,  and  her  father  was  too  much 
absorbed  in  business  to  pay  attention  to  his  family; 


104  THE    MAIDEN. 

so  that,  oetween  them,  her  home  education  had 
been  very  much  neglected,  and  very  badly  man- 
aged as  far  as  it  went.  Anna  really  pitied  her 
for  the  defects  of  her  character ;  and,  whenever 
an  opportunity  occurred,  strove  to  correct  them. 

"  Come,  Anna,  put  up  your  work,"  Florence 
said.  "  The  day  is  too  fine  a  one  to  be  spent  in- 
doors. I  have  called  on  purpose  to  take  you 
out." 

"I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  Florence," 
Anna  returned,  smiling,  "  but  I  cannot  go  out 
to-day." 

"  Yes  you  can,  I  know.  What  in  the  world  is 
toere  to  keep  you  at  home  ln 

"A  great  deal.  We  have  a  large  family ;  and 
that  makes  plenty  of  work.  It 's  as  much  as 
mother  and  I  can  both  do  to  keep  the  children's 
clothes  in  order,  after  we  get  one-half  of  them 
made  by  a  seamstress." 

"  One-half?  You  don't  pretend  to  make  half 
of  their  clothes!" 

"  Yes.     Why  not,  if  we  can  ?" 

"Just  for  the  reason  that  you  ought  not  to 
make  a  slave  of  yourself." 

"And  I  don't.  I  must  be  engaged,  usefully, 
all  the  while,  and  nothing  more  useful  offers.  1 
should  be  very  sorry,  indeed,  to  sit  down  and  fold 


CATCHING   HUSBANDS.  105 

my  hands  in  idleness,  and  put  father  to  the  ex- 
pense of  a  seamstress  in  the  house,  for  the  whole 
year  round.  It  would  injure  me,  and  be  a  burden 
to  him.  I  am  sure  I  should  not  be  as  happy  as  J 
now  am,  in  the  consciousness  that  I  am  doing  onlv 
what  I  ought  to  do." 

"  You  are  a  strange  kind  of  a  girl,  Anna ;  and 
yet,  I  sometimes  wish  that  I  were  just  like  you. 
But  I  ain't,  and  can't  be,  so  there  is  no  use  in 
wishing.  However,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  want  you 
to  go  out  with  me  this  lovely  morning." 

"  Why  axe  you  so'  desirous  to  have  my  com- 
pany "?" 

"  Because  I  like  you,  I  suppose,  and  want  to 
have  yon  share  a  delightful  promenade." 

"  Where  ?" 

"  Oh,  down  Chestnut  Street,  of  course." 

"  Why  down  Chestnut  Street  V* 

"  To  meet  the  beaux." 

"  Florence !" 

Anna  looked  at  her  young  friend  in  surprise. 

"  Don't  put  on  that  grave  face,  Anna.  What 
harm  have  I  said  ?  Is  there  anything  wrong  in 
walking  out  to  look  at  the  beaux  ?  Haven't  yoa 
done  it  yourself  hundreds  of  times  ? 

"  Me v>  And  the  colour  on  the  maiden's  cheek 


106  THE   MAIDEN. 

deepened  to  an  indignant  blush.  "  Me,  Florence  ' 
No,  never !" 

"  You  haven't  ]  What  harm  is  there  in  it, 
pray  ?" 

11  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question,  Florence  ?" 

"  Innocently  enough,  for  I  am  perfectly  uncon- 
scious of  any  wrong  in  the  matter,  I  have  walked 
out,  hundreds  of  times,  for  no  other  purpose  than 
to  meet  the  beaux  on  the  streets,  and  get  »  bow 
from  this  one,  a  smile  from  that  one,  and,  per- 
haps, a  very  agreeable  chat  for  a  square  or  two, 
with  another.  It's  delightful!  And  as  to  the 
harnij  I  think  it  will  puzzle  even  you  to  point  it 
out.  So  come,  put  up  your  work  for  this  once, 
and  go  with  me ;  I  know  you  will  enjoy  it  as 
much  as  I  do." 

Anna  shook  her  head,  and  looked  even  more 
serious  than  before. 

"  Well,  you  are  a  strange  creature,  Miss  Lee, ' 
Florence  said.  "  And  you  won't  go  v> 

"No — of  course  not." 

"  I  know  two  girls  that  got  husbands  just  by 
walking  down  Chestnut  Street  every  day.  There 
now!  What  do  you  think  of  that,  my  lady ?" 

"  Why,  Florence  !"  exclaimed  Anna. 

"It 's  true.  Lizzy  Glenn,  who  was  married  last 
week  to  Gaskill,  met  him  first  in  the  street.  He 


CATCHING   HUSBANDS.  107 

saw  her  one  day,  and  was  so  much  pleased  with 
her  appearance,  that  he  followed  her  home  to  see 
who  she  was  and  where  she  lived.  A  day  or  two 
afterwards  he  met  her  again,  and  looked  at  her 
so  hard  that  she  noticed  it.  For  nearly  a  week 
they  met  every  day,  she  encouraging  him  by 
looks,  until  he  ventured  to  bow  to  her.  She  re- 
turned the  salutation.  On  the  following  day  he 
not  only  spoke  to,  but  joined  her,  and  walked  for 
two  or  three  squares  by  her  side.  The  next 
advance  was  to  accompany  her  home.  After  that, 
things  went  on  as  pleasantly  as  could  be  wished, 
and  in  two  months  they  were  married.  Every- 
body says  it  is  an  excellent  match.  Now  wasn't 
that  delightful!  For  my  part,  if  I  thought  it 
would  be  my  good  luck  to  catch  a  husband  so 
easily,  I  would  walk  Chestnut  Street  from  Mon- 
day morning  until  Saturday  night.  Wouldn't 
you  ?" 

"  Husbands  caught  in  that  way,  I  should  hardly 
think  worth  having,"  Anna  gravely  replied. 

"  Why  not  ?    Isn't  Gaskill  worth  having  1» 

"  I  know  nothing  about  him." 

"  I  do  then ;  and  I  only  wish  he  had  fancied 
me  instead  of  Lizzy  Glenn.  I  think  I  would  have 
made  him  quite  as  good  a  wife." 

"  It  pains  me  to  hear  you  speak  lightly  on  so 


108  THE   MAIDEN. 

serious  a  matter,  Florence,"  Anna  returned.- 
"  Marriage  is  the  last  subject  on  which  a  maiden 
should  trifle.  If  she  think  of  it  all,  it  should  be 
with  subdued  and  holy  feelings.  On  no  account 
should  she  be  anxious  for  the  duties  and  responsi- 
bilities of  wedded  life — on  no  account  should  she 
seek  to  attract  attention.  But,  if  sought  by  one 
whose  principles  she  can  approve,  and  with  whose 
heart  her  own  can  beat  responsively,  then  she 
should,  with  a  calm,  deep,  woman's  trust,  give 
herself  to  him,  and  seek  to  become  one  with  him. 
Only  in  such  a  union  can  she  hope  to  be  blessed. 
To  desire  any  other  is  folly — to  form  any  other 
is  madness.  Ah,  my  friend !  if  all  women  had  so 
acted,  there  would  not  now  be  so  many  sad-hearted 
wives ;  and  that  there  are  many,  many  such,  even 
we  have  been  made  painfully  conscious." 

The  manner  of  Anna,  and  the  tone  of  her  voice, 
as  well  as  her  words,  caused  the  feelings  of  Flo- 
rence to  change.  Her  character  was  not  all  per- 
verted. There  was  yet  enough  of  the  woman  in 
her,  to  feel  that  what  her  friend  had  said  was 
true.  She  replied,  in  a  quieter  tone  than  any  in 
which  she  had  yet  spoken, 

"  According  to  your  idea,  a  young  girl  should 
keep  out  of  the  sight  of  young  men  as  much  as 
possible.'- 


CATCHING    HUSBANDS.  109 

"  She  should  not  seek  to  attract  their  attention 
This  is  all  I  mean." 

"  Then  she  ought  never  to  go  into  company  ?" 
"  That  does  not  follow.     At  a  suitable  age,  let 
her  go  into  company  by  all  means.     But  while  in 
company,  let  her  be  retiring  and  modest." 
"  And  so  get  no  attentions  paid  to  her  ?" 
"  She  may  not  receive  the  attentions  of  those 
who  look  no  deeper  than  a  gay  dress  and  an  impo- 
sing manner ;  but  she  will  lose  nothing  by  this. 
But,  for  me,  I  cannot  conceive  why  a  young  girl 
should  be  anxious  about  having  the  attentions  of 
young  men." 

"  As  to  the  why,  I  don't  know  that  there  is  any 
great  use  in  stopping  to  reason  about  it — thejfac* 
is  indisputable.  We  do  like  to  receive  their  at- 
tentions. Isn't  it  so  ?" 

"  I  can  only  speak  for  myself,"  Anna  replied. 
"  For  one,  I  neither  think  about,  nor  desire  the 
attentions  of  young  men,  while  in  company.     I  do 
not  object  to  them.     They  are,  in  fact,  when  made 
by  the  honourable.-minded,  pleasant  to  me." 
"  And  you  would  be  unhappy,  if  neglected  T' 
"  No.     I  have  been  as  happy  while  conversing 
3  whole  evening  in  a  circle  of  ladies,  as  I  have 
bor«u  when  surrounded  by  gentlemen.   Why  should 
1  not  be  ]» 
10 


110  THE   MAIDEN. 

"You  are  not  like  any  other  girl  I  ever  saw, 
Anna.  I  can't  make  you  out,  altogether.  If  1 
didn't  know  you  as  well  as  I  do,  I  would  say  you 
had  no  heart.  But  I  knoAv  you  have,  and  a  warm 
one  too.  Ah,  me !  I  wish  I  could  be  just  like 
you.  And  so  you  won't  put  .by  your  sewing  and 
walk  with  me  ?" 

"  No,  Florence ;  I  cannot  spare  the  time,  for  one 
thing — and  for  another,  I  could  not  walk  out,  un- 
less I  had  a  higher  end  in  view  than  the  one  you 
are  proposing  to  yourself.  But  suppose  you  lay 
off  your  things,  and  spend  the  morning  with  me." 

"  No,  thank  you !  I  have  come  out  for  a  walk 
on  Chestnut  Street,  and  I  must  have  it.  So,  good- 
morning,  dear,  if  I  am  not  to  have  your  good  com- 
pany." 

Florence  rose,  as  she  said  this,  and  moved 
towards  the  door.  The  friends  chatted  a  few 
minutes  longer,  standing,  and  then  the  visiter  de- 
parted. 

Going  at  once  into  Chestnut  Street,  Florence 
Armitage  took  her  way  slowly  down.  She  had 
not  gone  far,  before  she  met  William  Archer,  who 
joined  her.  Although  the  young  man  had  re- 
solved to  make  a  demonstration  in  another  quarter, 
he  thought  it  nothing  more  than  a  wise  policy  to 
maintain  with  Florence  the  best  possible  under- 


CATCHING   HUSBANDS.  Ill 

•tanding;  so  that,  should  he  fail,  as  prophesied  by 
his  friend,  Mrs.  Leslie,  in  his  attempts  to  win 
Anna  Lee,  he  might  have  all  things  in  such  a  fair 
train,  that  an  offer  could  at  once  be  made  to  Flo- 
rence. As  to  the  acceptance  of  that  offer,  he  had 
no  very  serious  doubts.  On  this  occasion,  he 
strolled  about  for  an  hour  with  Florence,  made 
two  or  three  calls  with  her,  and  then  saw  her  to 
her  own  door. 

On  the  evening  of  that  day,  Anna  Lee  sat  read- 
ing to  her  father  and  mother,  when  one  of  the 
domestics  came  in,  and  said  that  a  young  gentle- 
man was  in  the  parlour,  who  wished  to  see  her. 
"  Who  is  it  ?"  asked  Anna. 
"  He  did  not  tell  me  his  name,"  replied  the 
domestic. 

The  maiden  cast  her  eyes  to  the  floor,  and 
thought  for  a  moment ;  then  looking  up,  she  said, 
"  Ask  him  to  send  up  his  name,  Margaret." 
"  Hadn't  you  better  go  down,  Anna  ?     Perhap* 
it  may  be  some  friend,  who  will  think  you  rude." 
Mr.  Lee  remarked. 

Anna  thought  again \  and  then  replied  — 
"  I  would  rather  Margaret  would  get  his  name." 
"  Go  then,  Margaret,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  who  was 
Deginniug  to  feel  a  deeper  respect  for  his  daughter** 


112  THE    MAIDEN. 

perceptions  of  what  was  right  in  matters  that  con- 
cerned herself. 

"  Who  can  it  be,  I  wonder  ?"  the  mother  asked, 
half  musingly. 

Anna  did  not  reply,  but  sat  with  her  eyes  upon 
the  page  oi  the  book  she  had  been  reading.  In  a 
few  moments  the  domestic  returned,  and  handed 
her  a  card.  Her  cheek  flushed  the  moment  she 
saw  the  name  upon  it.  With  something  of  indig- 
nation in  her  voice,  she  said, — 

"  Say  to  him,  Margaret,  that  I  cannot  see  him." 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  asked  the  father  and  mother  at 
the  same  moment.  Anna  handed  her  father  the 
card — 

"  William  Archer  !"  he  ejaculated,  in  surprise. 
"  What  brings  him  here  ?" 

"  He  has  asked  for  me,"  replied  Anna ;  "  but 
I  cannot  see  him." 

"  Hadn't  you,  then,  better  let  Margaret  say  that 
you  will  thank  him  to  excuse  you  this  evening  ?" 
returned  Mrs.  Lee.  "  That  would  be  a  milder 
way  of  refusing  to  see  the  young  man." 

"  I  would  rather  she  would  say  to  him,  from 
me,  that  I  cannot  see  him.  That  is  just  the  truth, 
and  I  wish  him  to  know  it.  I  would  not  sit  alone 
and  talk  with  that  young  man  for  anything  that 
could  be  given  me."  And  the  pure-hearted  girl 


CATCHING  HUSB  ANDS.  113 

shuddered  with  an  instinctive  feeling  of  horror  at 
the  thoughts  of  his  character. 

Nothing  more  was  said,  and  the  domestic 
conveyed  to  Archer  Anna's  precise  words.  The 
young  man,  half-prepared  for  some  such  answer, 
since  his  name  had  gone  up,  retired  without  a 
remark,  or  the  evidence  of  a  single  emotion.  But 
he  was  deeply  chagrined,  and  felt  angry  and  bitter 
towards  Anna.  A  muttered  threat  of  revenge 
passed  his  lips  as  he  gained  the  pavement,  and 
strode  off  at  a  rapid  pace.  But  the  sweet  maiden 
was  safe  from  all  harm  he  might  purpose  against 
her  in  his  evil  heart  She  was  surrounded  and 
defended  by  the  sphere  of  her  own  innocence. 

And  were  every  maiden  so  surrounded  and  de- 
fended, every  maiden  would  be  as  safe,  though 
she  were  encompassed  by  a  host  of  those  who 
sought  her  ruin.  Even  the  lion  is  said  to  become 
tame  in  the  presence  of  a  pure  virgin.  This  ia 
much  more  than  a  mere  figure  of  speech. 
10* 


CHAPTER  XH. 

AN    ENGAGEMENT. 

ON  leaving  the  house  of  Mrs.  Lee,  young 
Archer  went  direct  to  his  friend  and  confidant, 
Mrs.  Leslie. 

"  I  called  on  Miss  Lee,  this  evening,"  he  said, 
abruptly,  as  soon  as  he  met  that  lady. 

"  Ah !     Well,  what  was  the  result  v»     . 

"  The  huzzy  wouldn't  see  me !" 

"  Hush,  William !  You  mustn't  speak  in  that 
way  about  young  ladies." 

"  The  girl,  then ;  confound  her !" 

"  What  did  she  say  ?» 

"  I  didn't  tell  my  name  to  the  servant,  when  I 
first  went  in,  merely  sending  up  word  that  a 
gentleman  had  called  to  see  her.  But  I  couldn't 
get  the  start  of  her  in  this  way.  She  would  have 
my  name.  So  I  sent  up  my  card.  In  three 
minutes  the  servant  came  down,  and  said,  'Miss 
Anna  says  she  cannot  see  you.'  Humph !  Wasn't 
that  telling  me  to  go  about  my  business  in  the 
coolest  way  imaginable  ?  But  I  '11  be  revenged 

(114) 


AN   ENGAGEMENT.  115 

on  her !  I  '11  make  her  repent  of  this  insult — see 
if  I  don't !  and  that  before  a  dozen  months  are 
told." 

"  William !  I  won't  hear  you  talk  so,"  inter- 
posed Mrs.  Leslie.  "  You  certainly  are  forgetting 
yourself.  If  Anna  didn't  wish  to  see  you,  she  had 
a  right  to  say  so." 

"Yes:  but—" 

"Remember,  William,"  added  Mrs.  Leslie, 
"  that  I  told  you  success  was  doubtful,  if  you 
presented  your  suit  in  that  quarter.  Anna  Lee 
has  already  refused  Gardiner,  as  you  know ;.  and, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken  in  her  reasons,  on  account 
of  lighter  objections  than  lie  at  your  door." 

"  Pah !  that 's  mere  affectation.  A  young  man 
is  liked  all  the  better  for  being  a  little  gay.  It 
shows  that  there  is  some  spirit  in  him." 

"  Your  doctrine,  however  true  in  the  mam, 
won't  hold  good  in  this  case." 

"I  don't  care.  I'll  be  revenged  on  her.  I'll 
humble  her  yet.  I'll  show  the  world  that  she 
isn't  the  angel  she  pretends  to  be." 

"  I  tell  you,  William,  that  I  will  not  permit  you 
to  speak  before  me,  in  this  way !"  The  base 
threat  of  the  base-hearted  young  man,  awoke  even 
Airs  Leslie's  sluggish  sense  of  delicacy  and  right. 

"Well,  well!    never  mind!"  he  replied,  in  a 


116  THE    MAIDEN. 

softened  tone,  conscious  that  he  had  said  too  much 
"  I  '11  try  and  keep  cool." 

"  Which  will  be  a  much  more  sensible  thing." 

"  But  shall  I  give  up  the  pursuit  ?" 

"Yes;  by  all  means.  No  man  who  has  any 
independent  feelings  could  know,  or  wish  to  know, 
the  individual  who  had  refused  to  see  him.  There 
is  Florence  Armitage,  who  is  to  be  had,  as  I  know, 
for  the  asking.  Take  her ;  she  will  suit  you  a 
great  deal  better.  Her  tastes  are  not  so  refined, 
nor  her  sense  of  propriety  so  squeamish  as  are 
those  of  Miss  Lee.  And  then,  you  know,  she 
will  have  something  more  solid  into  the  bargain. 
Depend  upon  it,  she  will  make  you  a  much  more 
agreeable  wife." 

"Perhaps  so.  But  in  a  wife,  even  I  would 
prefer  the  delicate  reserve  of  Anna  Lee,  to  the 
free,  forward,  kiss-me-if-you-dare  manner  of  Flo- 
rence Armitage." 

"  Would  you,  indeed !  You  are  nice  in  your 
distinctions." 

"  So  I  ought  to  be,  when  thinking  of  a  wife.  A 
man  ought  to  reflect  a  little  before  he  ties  himself 
to  a  woman's  apron  string  for  life." 

"  You  can't  get  Anna  Lee,  and  you  can  get 
Florence  Armitage;  and  you  must,  so  you  say, 
choose  bet  ween  them.  What  folly,  then,  to  trifle 


AN   ENGAGEMENT.  117 

about  it l  Go  forward,  like  a  man,  and  take  the 
latter;  my  word  for  it,  you  will  never  repent 
naving  done  so." 

Urged  Jby  his  friend,  Mrs.  Leslie,  and  by  the 
indignation  he  felt  at  the  refusal  of  Anna  to  see 
him,  Archer,  in  a  few  days,  determined  the  ques- 
tion in  favour  of  Florence.  With  her,  he  had  no 
difficulty.  Matters  were  soon  on  the  most  favour- 
able footing.  In  about  six  weeks  he  offered  him- 
self, and  was  accepted  without  hesitation  by  the 
maiden.  Her  parents  Avere  not  so  easily  recon- 
ciled. But  a  covert  intimation  that,  if  consent 
were  not  given,  an  elopement  would  inevitably 
take  place,  brought  them  to  terms.  Had  they 
known  the  real  truth,  that  the  young  man  had 
actually  wasted,  in  dissipation  and  gaming,  the 
whole  of  his  property,  they  would,  even  then,  not 
have  yielded.  But  this  they  did  not  suspect. 

After  these  preliminaries  were  settled,  much  to 
the  delight  of  Florence,  an  early  day  was  named 
for  the  marriage,  and  all  the  preparations  for  the 
happy  event  begun. 


CHAPTER 

A     NEW     LOVER. 

THE  reader  will  remember  that  mention  has 
once  or  twice  been  made  of  a  young  man  named 
Hartley. 

A  few  years  previous  to  the  opening  of  our 
story,  James  Hartley  came  to  Philadelphia  as  a 
poor  boy,  and  obtained,  through  the  recommenda- 
tion of  a  friend  who  knew  his  family,  a  situation 
in  a  wholesale  mercantile  house.  His  honesty, 
industry  and  intelligence,  soon  made  him  valuable 
to  his  employers,  who,  as  he  advanced  in  years, 
elevated  him  in  their  confidence  step  by  step, 
until,  long  before  he  had  reached  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  he  occupied  the  position  of  their 
chief  and  confidential  clerk.  Never,  in  the  slight- 
est degree,  did  he  betray  their  confidence,  or  tres- 
pass with  undue  familiarity  upon  their  frankness, 
and  the  open,  generous  manner  in  v/hich  they 
always  treated  him.  When  he  became  of  age,  so 
highly  was  he  esteemed  and  valued,  that  he  was 
offered  a  share  in  the  business,  and  became  one  of 

U18) 


A    NEW   LOVEIl.  119 

the  firm  of  R ,  S &  Co.,  and  entitled  to 

a  moderate  dividend  on  the  profits. 

During  his  minority,  the  young  man  had  devo- 
ted himself  so  closely  to  business,  and  given  to  it 
so  much  of  his  thoughts,  that  he  had  neglected  to 
adorn  his  mind  by  tasteful  reading,  and  to  furnish 
himself  with  stores  of  general  information.  On 
entering  into  company,  at  a  pretty  early  age,  he 
became  aware  of  his  deficiencies  in  this  respect, 
and  to  make  up  for  them  as  rapidly  as  possible,  he 
spent  most  of  his  evenings  in  reading  and  study. 
Naturally  modest  and  disposed  to  think  more  of 
his  deficiencies  than  of  his  attainments,  he  was 
retiring  in  company,  and,  therefore,  attracted  out 
little  attention.  He  was  not  much  of  a  favourite 
with  young  ladies,  because  he  did  not  pay  them 
very  marked  or  flattering  attentions.  This  was 
not  the  result  of  intention,  but  arose  from  want  of 
that  confidence  in  himself,  which  would  have 
pushed  him  forward  and  made  him  an  agreeable 
companion  to  all.  As  he  gradually  became  better 
and  better  acquainted  with  the  different  ladies  in 
whose  society  he  was  thrown,  some  liked  him,  and, 
indeed,  highly  esteemed  him,  while  others  thought 
him  a  dull  companion.  He  had  never  learned  to 
dance,  and  this  tended  to  keep  him  back,  and  to 
prevent  his  circle  of  acquaintance  from  enlarging ; 


1-0  THE    MAIDEN. 

for  while  most  of  the  young  girls  were  on  the 
floor,  threading  the  mazes  of  the  graceful  cotillion, 
he  was  in  some  corner,  in  grave  conversation 
with  their  mothers,  or  entertaining  some  neglected 
maiden,  whom  no  one  thought  it  worth  while  to 
take  as  a  partner. 

From  these  causes,  as  just  said,  he  was  not  a 
general  favourite  with  young  ladies.  Their 
opinions  in  regard  to  him  were  various.  Some 
thought  him  dull  and  stupid ;  while  others,  with 
whom  he  had  conversed  more  freely,  considered 
him  sensible  enough,  but  too  puritanical  in  his 
views  and  feelings;  others  again  said  that  they 
thought  they  could  like  him  very  well,  but  that 
they  never  could  get  near  him. 

Upon  the  whole,  although  no  one  could  allege 
any  moral  defect  against  Hartley,  there  were  very 
few  of  the  younger  members  of  the  social  circle 
who  cared  to  be  very  gracious  towards  him,  or 
who  did  not  feel  under  constraint. when  by  his  side. 

Anna  Lee  first  met  him,  after  he  had  been 
going  into  company  for  a  year  or  two.  He  was 
then  a  member  "of  the  house  in  which  he  had 
served  his  time.  From  the  moment  he  saw  her 
Hartley  liked  Anna;  but  she  was  so  general  a 
favourite,  that  it  was  a  rare  thing,  indeed,  that  he 
could  get  by  her  side ;  and  when  he  did,  she 


A  NEW  LOVER.  121 

always  showed  a  reserve  that,  acting  upon  his 
feelings,  already  prepossessed  in  her  favour,  closed 
up  his  mental  perceptions,  and  caiwd  him  to  ap- 
pear to  very  poor  advantage.  Of  this  he  Avas 
clearly  conscious. 

From  the  first  he  had  found  no  difficulty  in  ma- 
king the  acquaintance  of  Florence  Annitage.  She 
fluttered  through  the  whole  circle  of  young  men, 
and  had  a  word  with  all.  Her  policy,  as  well  <w 
her  feelings,  caused  her,  to  use  her  own  words  on 
a  certain  occasion,  to  make  herself  agreeable  to 
the  beaux.  Her  frank,  easy  manner  pleased 
Hartley  at  first.  She  was  kinder  and  more  affable 
towards  him  than  any  young  lady  he  had  met,  and 
often  came  to  his  aid  in  company,  when,  from 
backwardness,  he  was  losing  all  of  its  true  enjoy- 
ment. For  a  time,  Hartley  liked  Florence  very 
well.  But  a  close  observation  of  her  character, 
revealed  m  it  very  glaring  defects.  Her  efforts 
to  induce  him  to  ask  her  to  go  to  the  theatre  \vhen 
Fanny  Ellsler  danced,  efforts  that  could  not  be 
misunderstood,  first  took  the  scales  from  his  eyes. 
When  he  heard  that  she  had  been  seen  there  in 
company  with  Archer,  whose  principles  and  con- 
duct he  utterly  detested,  he  shrunk  frorh  her 
instinctively.  When  he  met  her,  he  treated  her 
11 


122  THE    MAIDEN. 

with  politeness,  but  took  no  pleasure  in  her  com- 
pany. 

Gradually,  as  he  met  Anna  Lee  again  and  again 
in  company,  Hartley  saw  more  and  more  of  the 
beautiful  order  and  purity  of  her  character.  From 
pleasure  experienced  in  the  observation  of  these, 
admiration  soon  arose  in  his  mind ;  and  this,  im- 
perceptibly, as  one  moral  beauty  after  another 
unfolded  itself  to  his  eyes,  deepened  into  a  feeling 
of  earnest  regard.  At  this  time,  he  was  concerned 
to  observe  that  Herbert  Gardiner,  whom  he  well 
knew,  was  beginning  to  be  very  marked  in  his 
attentions  towards  Anna;  and  he  was  still  more 
concerned  to  see  that  his  attentions  were  not 
apparently  disagreeable. 

Coolly,  and  with  more  philosophy  than  is  ordi- 
narily to  be  found  in  young  men,  Hartley  held 
himself  aloof,  and  looked  on  to  see  the  result. 

"  What  a  fool !"  he  heard  a  young  friend  say, 
as  he  came  up  and  joined  a  group  of  acquaintances 
who  were  standing  at  the  entrance  of  a  neighbour's 
store,  one  day  not  long  after  he  had  marked  the 
advances  of  Gardiner. 

«  Who 's  a  fool  ?»  he  asked. 

"  Why,  that  pretty  daughter  of  Lee's." 

"  What  Lee  V> 

"President  of  Insurance  Company." 


A   NEW   LOVER.  123 

"  Prav  what  has  she  been  doing  ?" 

"A  silly  thing  that  she  will  repent  of  before 
she  dies,"  was  the  reply  of  one.  "  She  has  given 
our  friend  Gardiner,  across  the  street,  the  mitten 
to  hold." 

«  What !» 

"It  is  said  she  has  declined  an  offer,  made  her  by 
Herbert  Gardiner.  What  do  you  think  of  thaf* 
Isn't  she  particular?  No  doubt  she  will  take  a 
drayman  before  she  dies,  and  be  glad  to  get  him." 

"  Why  did  she  decline  him "?" 

"  Some  girlish  whim,  I  suppose.  Or,  perhaps, 
gome  apprentice  boy  has  already  stolen  away  her 
heart." 

"  She  didn't  like  his  character,  it  is  said,"  re- 
marked one. 

"  What  does  she  know  about  that,  I  wonder  1" 
returned  another. 

"No,  it  v;a-m't  that,"  was  added  by  a  third. 
"I  am  told  that  she  pretended  to  have  a  percep- 
tion of  his  moral  quality  when  he  came  near  her, 
uhich  she  pronounced  impure." 

"Not  far  out  of  the  way,"  smilingly  replied 
Hartley. 

"  It 's  coming  to  a  pretty  pass,  I  think,"  said  the 
other,  "  when  young  girls  set  themselves  up  to 
pronounce  upon  the  quality  of  young  men's  mo- 


124  THE    MAIDEN, 

rals,  merely  by  the  impression  their  sphere,  as  I 
believe  it  is  called,  makes  upon  her.  A  man 
might  as  well  have  a  window  in  his  breast." 

"All  fal-lal!"  ejaculated  one  of  the  party, 
turning  on  his  heel,  and  going  off. 

The  little  group  separated  at  this,  and  Hartley 
went  to  his  own  store.  The  fact  he  had  heard 
thrilled  him  with  pleasure,  and  gave  to  Anna  Lee, 
m  his  mind,  a  far  more  elevated  position  than  she 
had  before  held. 

About  a  .month  afterwards,  during  which  time 
he  had  not  once  met  Anna,  he  heard  of  her  refusal 
to  receive  a  call  from  Archer.  Various  reasons 
were  assigned  for  tins,  but  he  was  very  sure  that 
he  understood  the  true  one. 

"  Noble  girl !»  he  said  to  himself.  "  Oh,  that 
every  honest  woman  would  stamp,  as  you  have 
done,  the  seal  of  displeasure  upon  vice !" 

Firm  and  consistent  in  his  own  conduct,  and  ever 
acting  from  principles  of  right,  settled  as  truths 
in  his  own  rational  mind,  James  Hartley  was  an 
admirer  in  all  of  firmness  and  consistency;  but 
how  much  more  an  admirer  of  them  in  one  whom 
his  heart  had  already  begun  to  love!  Gardiner 
out  of  the  way — and  Archer's  visit  declined,  he 
began  to  think  of  approaching,  with  serious  intent, 
the  iovelj  maiden  himself.  But,  no  sooner  did 


AN    IMPRESSION    MADE.  125 

he  begin  thus  to  think,  than  doubts  arose  in  his 
mind.  His  own  person  was  plain,  and  Anna  had 
declined  an  offer  from  one  who  was  generally  ad- 
mitted to  be  one  of  the  most  fascinating  and  noble- 
looking  young  men  in  the  city.  He  had  not,  as  some 
others,  who  would  seek  her  favour,  those  graces 
of  mind  which  are  so  beautiful  and  attractive.  He 
possessed  not  riches,  although  he  was  well  con- 
nected in  business.  His  family  was  obscure ;  in 
fact,  unknown  in  the  city.  He  was,  himseh, 
modest  and  retiring,  and  could  not  go  forward 
and  extort  attention,  as  many  had  the  power  of 
doing. 

These  thoughts  made  him  sad  with  feelings  of 
doubt  and  discouragement. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AN     IMPRESSION    MADE. 

IT  must  not  be  supposed  that  Anna  Lee  coulil 
take  the  virtuous  stand  she  did  in  regard  to  young 
Archer,  without  feeling  some  disturbance  of  mind. 
She  was  not  perfect— far  from  it— she  was  only 
in  the  effort  to  become  so.  She  was  only  striving 
to  act  from  what  she  saw  to  be  true  principles. 
11* 


126  THE   MAIDEN. 

Ill  this  case,  she  believed  that  to  receive  the  visits 
ol"  a  man  like  William  Archer — a  man  who  had 
been  guilty  of  inflicting  upon  more  than  one  of 
her  sex,  the  deepest  possible  wrong  —  a  wrong 
irreparable  either  in  this  or  the  next  world, 
would  be  nothing  more  than  approving  and 
encouraging  that  wrong.  -And  this  she  could  not 
in  conscience  do.  She,  therefore,  firmly  repulsed 
him.  Oh,  that  every  virtuous  maiden  would  thus 
turn  from  the  man  who  has  been  the  wronger  of 
her  sex,  let  him  approach  her  when  and  where 

he  will — in   the   social   circle,  in  the  crowded 

•  *• 

drawing-room,  or  in  the  public  street!  She  need 
not  do  this  with  a  parade  that  attracts  attention — 
but  only  shrink  from  him  as  the  sensitive  plant 
shrinks  from  an  approaching  hand.  She  is  neither 
true  to  herself  nor  her  sex  if  she  does  not  do  so. 
For  one,  the  writer  of  this  always  suspects  the 
purity  of  heart  of  that  woman  who  countenances 
or  receives  the  attentions  of  a  man  who  is  known 
as  the  betrayer  of  her  sex  ! 

"  Have  I  not  done  right,  father  ?"  Anna  said, 
looking  up  earnestly  into  her  father's  face,  as  soon 
as  the  street  door  had  been  heard  to  close  heavily 
bohind  the  disappointed  and  mortified  young  man. 

"  Yes,  dear,  perfectly  right,"  replied  Mr.  Lee. 

Anna's  eyes  fell  again  upon  the  page  of  the  book 


AN   IMPRESSION    MADE.  127 

she  held  in  her  hand.  Neither  her  father  nor 
mother  made  any  further  remark ;  and  she, 
after  sitting  silent  for  some  time,  resumed  her 
pleasant  task  of  reading  aloud  to  them.  But  her 
voice  was  neither  so  clear  nor  calm  as  it  had 
been.  It  was  slightly  tremulous  and  husky. 
She  read  on,  for  half  an  hour,  and  then  shut  the 
book,  and  left  the  room.  Ascending  to  her  own 
chamber,  and  closing  the  door  after  her,  she  sunk 
upon  her  knees  at  the  bedside,  and  lifted  up  her 
heart  in  earnest  prayer  to  be  guided  aright  in  all 
the  relations  of  life ;  and  to  be  endowed  with 
firmness  to  act  truly  her  part  as  a  woman. 

The  incident  that  had  just  transpired,  and  the 
position  she  had  felt  it  to  be  her  duty  to  take,  had 
disturbed  her  feelings.  But  now  she  felt  calmer, 
and  more  clearly  conscious  that  she  had  acted 
right. 

The  fact  that  Anna  had  refused  to  see,  even  in 
her  own  house,  the  young  man  who  had  called 
upon  her,  soon  became  known  and  talked  about. 
A  few  silently  approved  her  conduct ;  but  many 
openly  censured  her,  and  some  even  permitted 
themselves  to  draw  inferences  from  the  fact,  that 
reflected  upon  the  purity  of  her  character.  Of 
all  this,  however,  she  was  ignorant.  She  appeared 
as  usual,  in  company,  but  there  was  a  change  in 


128  THE    MAIDEN. 

the  conduct  of  young  men  towards  her — that  is, 
of  a  certain  class  of  young  men.  Those  who  led 
an  evil  life,  kept  to  some  extent  aloof.  They 
feared  to  approach  her  with  familiarity,  lest  they, 
too,  should  be  made  to  feel  that  they  were  un- 
worthy. 

From  this  reason,  although  she  was  still  the 
cynosure  of  every  eye,  many  a  gay  flutterer,  who 
had  before  flitted  around  her,  kept  at  a  distance, 
lest  his  wings  should  be  melted  by  a  too  near  ap- 
proach. All  this  favoured  our  friend  Hartley. 
Anna  was  more  accessible  to  him  in  company, 
for  she  was  not  so  frequently,  as  before,  the  part- 
ner of  some  gay  friend. 

The  more  intimately  Anna  knew  Hartley,  the 
more  she  thought  about  him.  There  was  some- 
thing, to  her  eye,  beautiful  in  the  honest  simpli- 
city of  his  mind,  and  attractive  in  the  moral 
strength  of  his  character.  At  first  he  had  seemed 
a  common  man.  She  had  responded  to  his  atten- 
tions, whenever  she  was  thrown  into  his  company, 
because  she  was  kind  to  all  who  were  worthy  of 
kindness  ;  but  as  she  met  him  oftener,  knew  him 
better,  and  marked  the  orderly  character  of  his 
mind,  and  the  healthy  tone  of  his  sentiments,  she 
could  not  but  admire  him.  And  when  he  ven- 
tured to  call  to  see  her  at  her  father's  house,  she 


AN    IMPRESSION    MADE.  129 

Deceived  his  visit  with  pleasure,  although  she  had 
not  the  most  distant  suspicion  that  his  call  was 
anything  more  than  a  friendly  visit. 

After  he  had  gone  away,  Anna  sunk  down  upon 
the  sofa,  in  the  parlour,  alone,  and  fell  into  a 
dreamy,  musing  state  of  mind.  Many  images,  dim 
and  but  half  defined,  floated  before  her ;  and  min- 
gled with  them  was  the  form  of  young  Hartley. 
She  heard  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  remembered 
many  sentiments  he  had  uttered.  And  all  this  was 
pleasing  to  her. 

The  young  man  trode  the  pavement,  as  he  walked 
homeward,  with  light  footsteps,  and  a  lighter  heart. 
Anna  had  not  refused  to  see  him.  And  more  than 
that:  She  had  sung  and  played  for  him  —  the 
music  sounding  sweeter  to  his  ears  than  anything 
he  had  ever  heard — and  seemed  interested  in  all 
the  conversation  that  passed  between  them. 

In  a  week  Hartley  called  again.  But  this  visit 
was  far  from  being  as  pleasant  as  the  first.  Anna 
seemed  reserved.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Had  she 
suspected  his  feelings  ?  And  did  she  mean  to  re- 
pulse him?  The  thought  embarrassed  him,  and 
made  their  intercourse,  during  the  hour  that  he 
stayed,  unsatisfactory  to  both. 

The  young  man  did  not  venture  upon  a  third 
visit.  He  was  afraid.  The  coldness  of  Anna, 


130  THE    MAIDEN. 

was  evident  to  his  mind,  arose  from  a  dislike  to- 
wards him,  and  he  shrunk  from  the  direct  issue 
of  an  open  repulse. 

Two  months  passed,  and  not  once  during  that 
time  had  Hartley  ventured  to  call  upon  the  maid- 
en who  was  in  all  his  waking  and  dreaming 
thoughts.  Two  or  three  times  he  had  met  her 
upon  the  street,  and,  although  she  had  spoken  to 
him,  there  was  something  shy  about  her — some- 
thing altogether  unusual  in  her  manner.  He  in- 
terpreted it  to  mean  a  dislike  for  him ;  but  he  was 
a  young  man,  and  little  acquainted  with  the  lan- 
guage of  a  woman's  heart. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A     SAD     PICTURE. 

WHEN  it  became  known  to  Anna  Lee,  that  her 
young  friend,  Florence,  had  accepted  an  offer  of 
marriage  from  Archer,  her  heart  was  deeply 
troubled.  When  they  met,  and  Florence  delicately 
unfolded  the  truth  to  her,  the  words  Anna  spoke 
in  reply  seemed  as  if  they  would  choke  her. 
She  could  not  utter  congratulations,  and  she  felt 


A    SAD   PICTURE.  131 

that  she  had  now  no  right  to  object  to  the  young 
man's  character.  Florence  was  his  betrothed. 

"I  have  a  particular  favour  to  ask  of  you, 
Anna,"  said  her  friend ;  "  and  I  am  sure  you  will 
not  refuse  me." 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  You  will  be  one  of  my  bridemaids  ?" 

Anna's  eyes  fell  to  the  floor.  How  could  she 
refuse  her  friend's  request?  and  yet,  how  could 
she  grant  it?  After  thinking,  hurriedly,  for  a 
few  moments,  and  becoming  sensible  how  inti- 
mately such  a  service  to  her  friend  would  bring 
her  into  contact  with  a  man  from  whom  she 
shrunk  with  abhorrence,  and  who  could  not  but 
feel  angry  with  her,  she  looked  up  and  said, 

"I  am  sorry  to  refuse  you,  Florence,  but  it 
will  be  out  of  the  question.  I  cannot  act  as  your 
bridemaid." 

"Why?" 

Anna  was  again  silent.    What  could  she  say  ? 

"  You  must,  Anna ;  indeed  you  must,"  urged 
Florence. 

"No,  my  friend,  I  cannot  do  this,"  was  the 
maiden's  firm  answer. 

"  It  is  because  you  don't  like  William,"  said 
Florence,  a  little  warmly,  her  cheek  reddening. 

Anna  did  not  reply. 


132  THE    MAIDEN. 

"  Speak  out  the  plain  truth,  and  name  at  once 
your  reason.  Isn't  it  as  I  say  ?" 

"  Suppose  that  were  the  reason,  Florence,  why 
should  you  wish  to  know  it  ?" 

"  Because  I  do."  Florence  was  losing  com- 
mand of  herself. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Anna,  with  earnest- 
ness, "  do  not  let  a  little  thing  like  this  cause 
you  to  feel  unkindly  towards  one  who  has  a  warm 
affection  for  you ;  towards  One  who  would  will- 
ingly serve  you  in  every  possible  way." 

"  It  is  not  impossible  for  you  to  do  what  I  have 
asked."  Florence  looked  into  Anna's  face  with 
compressed  lips,  as  she  made  this  reply. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  do  anything  that  I 
think  wrong." 

"Wrong!  Wrong  to  be  my  bridemaid  !"  And 
Florence  rose  to  her  feet  with  a  flushed  face. 
<c  What  do  you  mean  by  such  words  ?" 

"  Enough  has  been  already  said,  Florence," 
returned  the  maiden,  with  the  tears  starting  to 
her  eyes.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  give  you  a  reason 
for  declining  your  request.  Believe  me  that  it 
does  not  arise  from  any  indisposition  to  serve 
you." 

"It  is  because  you  do  not  like  Mr.  Arch-er, 
then?" 


A    SAD   PICTURE.  133 

Anna  made  no  reply 

"  Anna,  I  must  and  will  have  the  truth  !  Tell 
me  at  once  if  that  is  your  reason?"  Florence 
spoke  In  an  agitated  manner. 

"I  cannot  withhold  my  reason,  if  you  insist 
upon  knowing  it." 

"  I  do  insist." 

"  You  have  supposed  truly." 

"  You  don't  like  Mr.  Archer." 

"No,  Florence,  I  don't.  This  you  have  always 
known.  And  it  is  for  this  reason  that  I  am  com- 
pelled to  refuse  your  request." 

"  How  can  you  be  my  friend,  and  not  the 
friend  of  my  husband  ?"  Florence  had  a  stern 
look,  as  she  asked  this  question,  and  then  moved 
towards  the  door. 

"It  must  be  as  you  say,  Florence,"  was  Anna's 
calm  reply,  although  the  tears  were  stealing  from 
beneath  her  half-closed  lashes.  "I  wish  to  be 
your  frien^d — I  love  you  as  a  sister ;  or,  rather,  let 
me  say,  as  a  wayward  sister,  whom  I  would  lain 
lead  by  better  counsels  than  those  she  is  following. 
The  man  you  are  about  to  marry,  you  well  know, 
I  do  not  like,  and  that  I  have  good  reasons  for  my 
feeling.  1  do  not  think  he  will  ever  make  you 
happy.  I  wish,  from  my  heart,  you  had  declined 
his  offer." 
12 


134  fHE   MAIDEN. 

The  exceeding  tenderness  of  Anna's  voice,  as  it 
pronounced  the  words  "  sister,"  and  "  wayward 
sister,"  caused  the  heart  of  Florence  to  tremole. 
Her  momentarily  excited  anger  subsided.  She 
looked  at  the  sweet,  anxious  face  of  her  friend, 
and  at  the  tears  that  were  glistening  on  her 
cheeks.  The  appeal  to  all  that  was  of  the  woman 
in  her  was  too  strong,  and  she  rushed  into  the 
arms  of  Anna,  and  sank  sobbing  upon  her  bosom. 

"  0,  my  dear,  good  friend !"  she  murmured,  as 
soon  as  her  emotion  had  in  some  degree  subsided. 
"  I  wish  that  I  had  your  firm  heart  that  beats  so 
truly  and  warmly  in  the  right  place.  I  wish  that, 
like  you,  I  were  free  from  weakness.  That  I 
could  always  do  what  my  judgment  dictates.  I 
was  angry  with  you  but  a  moment  since ;  no  — 
no — Florence  was  not  angry,  it  was  her  pride 
tnat  was  angry.  She  loves  you  as  truly  and  as 
tenderly  as  she  has  ever  loved  you ;  and  may  that 
love  never  grow  cold !  But  can  you,  will  you  still 
love  me,  and  seek  to  guide  my  young  heart  as  you 
have  hitherto  sought,  but  with  so  little  apparent 
effect  ?  I  shall  need  your  counsel — I  shall  need 
just  such  a  friend.  For  in  all  soberness,  Anna,  1 
do  not  feel  that  I  have  done  right  in  accepting  an 
offer  of  marriage  from  William  Archer.  I  do  not 
believe  that  he  will  ever  make  me  happy." 


A   SAD   PICTURE. 


Anna  shuddered,  when  her  friend  said  this  in  a 
voice  that  was  sadder  than  anything  she  had  foi 
a  long  time  heard. 

"  O  Florence  !"  And  now  Anna's  tears  gushed 
freely.  "Why  did  you  not  pause  and  think 
before  you  took  this  fatal  step  ?  Why  did  you 
not  pray  to  Heaven  for  direction,  before  you 
spoke  that  one  little  word  that  involves  the 
happiness  and  misery  of  a  whole  lifetime  —  nay, 
my  dear  friend,  of  a  whole  eternity  ? 

"  Because  I  was  mad.  But  is  not  this  worse 
than  madness,  Anna?  I  have  consented  to  be- 
come his  bride.  The  day  is  appointed,  and, 
before  three  weeks  have  passed  away,  I  shall  oe 
a  wife.  I  dare  not  say  a  happy  wife.  But  I 
must  strive  to  be  all  to  him  that  a  wife  should  be.** 

"  That  is  your  duty,  Florence.  And  if  you 
will  only  strive  to  do  a  wife's  part,  looking  up 
for  assistance  in  all  your  duties,  and  for  guidance 
in  every  trying  circumstance,  your  marriage  with 
William  Archer,  although  in  the  nature  of  things 
it  cannot,  at  first,  be  a  very  happy  one,  may  be 
the  Tneans  of  elevating  and  perfecting  your  cha- 
racter. And  still  more,  of  elevating  and  refining 
the  character  of  your  husband.  Although  the 
ordeal  may  be  to  you  a  fiery  one,  it  may  prove  in 


136  THE    MAIDEN. 

the  hands  of  Providence  the  means  of  accomplish- 
ing a  great  good." 

"  God  grant  that  it  may  be  so,"  murmured  Flo- 
rence. 

A  responsive  "  Amen,"  was  all  the  sound  that 
broke  upon  the  air,  and  then  a  deep,  deep  silence 
followed. 

From  that  time,  Florence  Armitage  was  a 
changed  being.  She  had  felt  all  she  had  expressed 
to  Anna,  over  and  over  again,  in  the  short  space 
that  had  elapsed  since  her  engagement  to  Archer : 
but  the  expression  of  her  feelings  gave  them  a 
fixedness  and  power.  They  now  influenced  her 
external  acts,  and  were  seen  in  the  change 
wrought  in  her  countenance  and  manner.  Her 
observation  had  become  more  acute,  and  her  feel- 
ings more  truly  impressible.  She  saw  more  dis- 
tinctly than  she  had  before  seen,  the  true  character 
of  Archer,  and  how  little  there  was  in  it  for  a 
woman  to  love.  She  saw  that  he  was  selfish,  had 
a  violent  temper,  and  was  willing  to  sacrifice 
anything  so  that  his  own  wishes  might  be  grati- 
fied. 

But  what  could  she  do  ?  She  had  consented  to 
become  his  wife.  Had  entered  into  a  solemn  con- 
tract with  him,  and  she  felt  that  she  dar^d  not 
violate  it. 


CHAPTER  XVT. 

AN   EXCITING    CIRCUMSTANCE. 

DURING  the  next  three  weeks,  Florence  was 
unhappy.  She  dreaded,  almost  like  the  approach 
of  death,  her  wedding-day.  The  more  intimate 
she  became  in  her  association  with  the  man  she 
had  promised  to  marry,  the  stronger  was  her  re- 
pugnance to  the  union.  She  was  much  with 
Anna  during  that  time,  who  strove  all  that  was  in 
her  power,  to  cause  her  friend  to  look  up  for 
light.  Anna  did  not  feel  that  she  ought  to  en- 
courage Florence  to  break  her  contract  with 
Archer.  Had  she  done  so,  Florence  would  not 
long  have  hesitated;  for  she  did  not  as  yet  see 
principles  of  action  clearly  in  the  light  of  her 
own  mind,  and  therefore  was  easily  led  by  others, 
when  their  advice  favoured  her  own  inclinations. 

Archer  himself  saw  that  Florence  was  changed, 
and  he  half  suspected  the  cause.  This  made  him 
more  attentive,  and  more  careful  to  study  the  in- 
clinations of  his  betrothed.  But  enough  of  his 
real  character  was  constantly  showing  itself,  to 

12*  (137) 


138  THE   MAIDEN. 

sadden  the  heart  of  Florence,  at  the  thought  of 
becoming  his  bride.  The  recollection,  too,  of  a 
young  school-mate,  to  whom  she  had  been  at- 
tached, and  who  had  been  drawn  from  the  path 
of  virtue  two  years  before,  by  Archer,  and  ban- 
ished from  virtuous  society,  was  constantly  in  her 
mind.  All  through  the  day  the  image  of  that 
sweet-faced  girl  would  be  before  her ;  and  she 
would  often  dream  of  her  at  night. 

By  the  time  her  wedding-day  arrived,  she  had, 
instead  of  a  pure  love,  a  deep  aversion  for  the 
man  she  had  consented  to  marry.  Nevertheless, 
all  the  preparations  went  on.  A  large  company 
was  invited  to  grace  the  nuptial  ceremonies,  and 
they  assembled  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Armitage  ac- 
cording to  appointment.  Anna  Lee,  though  still 
firmly  declining  to  act  as  one  of  the  bridemaids, 
was  with  her  friend  in  her  chamber  as  the  hour 
approached,  assisting  to  dress  her  for  the  occasion. 

Poor  Florence  felt  wretched.  But  there  seemed 
no  way  of  escape.  She  had  accepted  the  young 
man's. offer.  There  had  been  a  solemn  contract, 
and  she  did  not  see  how  she  could  break  it ;  par- 
ticularly, as  she  knew  just  as  much  of  the  young 
man's  character,  as  a  betrayer  of  innocence,  before, 
as  since,  she  had  agreed  to  marry  him. 

All  the  preparations  were   completed,  and  in 


AN    EXCITING   CIRCUMSTANCE.  139 

half  an  hour  Florence  would  have  to  stand  at  the 
marriage  altar,  and  pledge  her  faith  to  a  man  for 
whom  she  "felt  a  strong  internal  repugnance — to 
a  man  who  could  not  make  her  happy.  She  de- 
sired to  be  left  alone  with  Anna  during  the  time 
that  remained,  and  all  retired  from  her  chamber 
but  the  true-hearted  maiden.  For  ten  minutes 
not  a  word  was  spoken  by  either.  Then  the 
silence  was  broken  by  a  violent  fit  of  weeping. 
Florence  was  not  able  to  control  her  feelings. 

Anna  tenderly  soothed  and  encouraged  her, 
until  she  grew  externally  calm. 

"Ah,  my  dear  friend!"  said  Florence,  when 
she  could  trust  herself  to  speak,  "you  cannot 
know  the  dreadful  feelings  I  have.  I  think  I 
could  meet  death  with  calmness;  but  from  this 
union  I  shrink  with  a  most  intolerable  anguish  of 
mind.  Last  night  I  dreamed,  for,  it  seems,  the 
twentieth  time,  that  Grace  Leary  came  to  see  me 
—  you  remember  sweet  little  Grace.  I  thought 
I  was  sitting  just  here,  and  she  opened  that  door, 
and  came  in  w'th  a  quiet  step.  She  had  on  a 
gay  dress,  much  worn  and  soiled,  and  a  bonnet 
full  of  bright  flowers,  that  were  drooping  and 
faded.  All  her  beauty  was  gone  ;  and,  instead  of 
the  soft  light  of  her  sweet  blue  eyes,  that  we  all 
used  so  to  admire,  her  glance  had  in  it  a  fierce, 


J40  THE    MAIDEN. 

demoniac  fire.  She  came  close  up  to  n.e,  ana 
stood  and  looked  me  fixedly  in  the  face.  I  could 
neither  move  nor  speak.  Gradually  the  whole 
expression  of  her  face  changed.  Her  eyes  grew 
mild  as  heaven's  soft  azure,  her  cheeks  rounded, 
into  the  contour  of  health,  and  the  rose  blushed  i» 
them.  The  tawdry  finery  in  which  •  she  was 
dressed  changed  into  garments  of  snowy  white, 
and  she  stood  smiling  upon  me,  the  lovely  Grace 
Leary  of  other  days !  I  started  forward  to  embrace 
her,  but  she  stepped  back,  changed  instantly  to 
her  former  appearance ;  and'  pointing  to  a  corner 
of  the  room,  said  sternly — 

"  '  For  this,  lie  is  guilty !' 

"I  looked,  and  there  stood  William  Archer 
I  was  wide  awake  in  an  instant.  Oh,  Anna! 
where,  and  what  is  Grace  Leary  now  ?  The  man 
I  am  about  to  marry,  betrayed  her ;  and  she  is,  if 
still  alive,  a  wretched  outcast.  That  dream  I  feel 
to  be  true — alas!  too  true!  And  may  it  not  be 
sent  as  a  warning  ?  Is  it  not  the  voice  of  Heaven, 
calling  upon  me  to  pause  ?  Oh,  if  I  could  only 
think  so,  I  would  stop  even  here,  and  start 
back,  from  what  seems  inevitable  ruin.  There  is 
nothing  that  I  would  not  do,  rather  than  advance 
a  single  step  further.  Anna !  dear  Anna !  You 


AN   EXCITING    CIRCUMSTANCE.  141 

are  wiser  and  better  than  I  am ;  tell  me  what  1 
should  do." 

Before  Anna  Lee  could  frame  her  thoughts  into 
a  reply,  the  door  opened,  and  a  stranger,  closely 
veiled,  came  in,  and  advanced  towards  the  two 
young  friends.  Both  rose  to  their  feet,  in  instant 
surprise.  The  intruder  was  small  in  stature,  and 
delicately  formed.  Her  dress  was  of  rich  ma- 
terial, but  much  defaced :  and  her  whole  appear- 
ance that  of  one  who  had  experienced  some  sad 
change  of  fortune.  For  nearly  a  minute  she  stood 
before  the  astonished  inmates  of  the  room,  with 
her  head  bent  towards  the  floor,  and  her  breast 
labouring  heavily.  At  last  she  slowly  drew  aside 
the  thick  veil  that  concealed  her  face.  It  was  a 
young,  young  face,  but  sadly  marred.  There  was 
a  broad  white  brow,  and  a  pair  of  deep  blue  eyes, 
sunken  far  back  in  their  sockets— delicately-formed 
lips,  and,  indeed,  a  whole  countenance  of  the 
softest  feminine  mould.  But  the  face  was  pale 
and  sad,  and  had  upon  it  many  a  line,  not  written 
there  by  Virtue's  finger. 

"  You  do  not  know  me,"  the  stranger  said,  in  a 
low,  tremulous  voice,  breaking  the  oppressive 
silence. 

That  voice  stirred  a  thousand  old  memories  in 
the  hearts  of  both  Florence  and  Anna. 


142  THE    MAIDEN. 

"  It  is  no  wonder,"  she  added,  in  a  saddor  tone, 
"I  have  changed  since  we  played  together  as 
children." 

"Grace!  Grace  Leary!  Can  it  be  possible!" 
exclaimed  Anna,  starting  forward.  But  the  stran- 
ger shrunk  away,  saying, 

"No — no — Anna  Lee:  I  will  not  let  your 
pure  hand  touch  one  so  polluted  as  mine.  I 
have  come  here  to  perform  one  good  act,  among 
my  thousand  evil  ones.  This  is  the  wedding- 
night  of  Florence  Armitage.  I  have  dreamed  of 
her  for  weeks  past ;  and  now,  impelled  by  some- 
thing I  cannot  resist,  I  have  come  to  warn  her 
against  the  man  to  whom  she  is  about  to  be  united. 
He  lured  me,  with  false  promises  of  marriage, 
from  the  path  of  virtue,  and  then  corrupted  me 
more  and  more,  and  pressed  me  down  lower  and 
lower,  until  I  am  what  you  see,  one  of  society's 
vilest  outcasts." 

"  Florence !"  and  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the 
young  creature  who  stood  trembling  before  her, 
all  decked  out  fti  her  bridal  robes — "Pause  — 
think — start  back!  If  you  advance  a  single  step, 
*  you  will  be  wretched  for  life.  I  have  a  right  to 
know  the  man  you  are  about  to  marry, — I  do 
know  him,  far  better  than  you  possibly  can ;  and 
I  know  him  to  be  corrupt,  debased,  unprinci- 


AN   EXCITING   CIRCUMSTANCE.  143 

pled.  I  hold  his  promise  of  marriage ;  a  promise 
by  which  he  enticed  jne  from  the  right  path  ;•  and 
while  that  promise  stands,  he  has  no  right  to  wed 
another.  He  can  never  be  truly  your  husband, 
while  he  is  pledged  to  me." 

At  that  moment  the  door  again  opened,  and 
Archer  himself,  accompanied  by  the  mother  ol 
Anna,  and  the  bridemaids,  entered.  It  was  tht 
hour  for  the  ceremony  to  begin. 

"Aha!"  half  shrieked  the  wretched  creature 
as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  young  nian  himself 
who  stepped  back  in  amazement  and  alarm.  Ther 
raising  her  finger,  and  stretching  up  her  slender 
form  to  its  utmost  height,  she  said,  in  a  calm,  clear 
voice  — 

"  Base  betrayer  of  innocence !  Behold  one  of 
your  victims '  There  is  an  unmarked  grave,  in  a 
lonely  spot  near  the  city.  Do  you  know  who 
sleeps  there?  Flora  Lyons!"  This  name  was 
uttered  mournfully,  at  its  sound,  both  Anna  and 
Florence  started,  and  grew  pale.  The  excited  girl 
went  on, — "  I  was  with  her  on  the  night  in  which 
she  died — alone  with  her.  Oh,  it  was  r  'rradful 
night!  She  cursed  you  with  her  latest  breath, 
and  well  she  might— you  were  h/r  y  -nlorcr— 
yes,  worse  than  her  murderer ;  for  you  killed  both 
body  and  soul.  And  now,  after  all  this,  the  wolf 


144>  THE    MAIDEN. 

is  seeking  to  consort  with  the  lamb.    But  it  shall 
not  be !" 

The  strong  excitement  of  the  girl's  feelings  over- 
came her.  As  she  uttered  the  last  words,  her  ex- 
tended arm  fell,  her  head  drooped  upon  her 
bosom,  and  she  would  have  fallen  forward  upon 
the  floor,  had  not  the  mother  of  Florence  caught 
her  in  her  arms.  When  the  confusion  that  fol- 
lowed had  subsided,  William  Archer  was  not  to 
be  seen.  He  had  left  the  room  and  the  house. 

"  Thank  God !  I  am  saved,"  murmured  Flo- 
rence, as  soon  as  her  bewildered  mind  grew  calm, 
throwing  her  arms  round  the  neck  of  Anna  as 
she  spoke.  They  were  again  alone,  after  having 
seen  poor  Grace  Leary,  still  insensible,  laid  in 
bed,  and  properly  attended  to. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Florence !  you  are  safe.  And 
may  the  Being  you  have  so  fervently  thanked  for 
his  kind,  preserving  care,  keep  you  ever  under 
the  shadow  of  His  wings.  Look  up  to  Him,  and 
you  need  fear  no  danger.  He  will  be  a  light  to 
your  feet,  and  guide  you  safely  through  the  most 
dark  and  difficult  parts  of  life's  journey." 

"I  will  Icok  to  Him — I  will  trust  in  him," 
murmured  the  thankful  girl,  drawing  her  arm 
tightly  about  the  neck  of  her  friend. 

Of  the  surprise  and  confusion  that  took  place 


WOOED  AND  WON.  145 

when  it  was  announced  to  the  company  that  the 
wedding  would  not  take  place,  nothing  need  be 
said.  Of  course  there  was  much  embarrassment 
—  many  exclamations,  and  a  hundred  and  .one 
conjectures  as  to  the  real  cause.  All  was  in  d^e 
time  explained  and  understood ;  and  all  felt  glad 
that  Florence  had  escaped  a  life  of  wretchedness 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

WOOED    AND    WON. 

A  FEW  evenings  after  the  events  which  trans- 
pired at  the  house  of  Mr.  Armitage,  as  just 
described,  had  taken  place,  Hartley,  who  could 
not  erase  the  image  of  Anna  Lee  from  his  mind, 
determined,  in  a  moment  of  half-desperation,  to 
call  upon  her  once  more. 

"  If  she  dislikes  me,  I  will  see  it,  and  I  want 
some  certainty,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Under  this  feeling,  he  visited  her. 

"Mr.  Hartley   is    in    the    parlour,"    said    a 
domestic,  as  she  opened  the  door  of  the  room 
where  Anna  was  sitting  with  her  parents. 
13 


146  THT 

Mr.  Lee  looked  into  the  face  of  his  daughter, 
and  saw  that  the  announcement  had  disturbed  the 
quiet  tone  of  her  feelings.  But  whether  the  effect 
were  pleasing,  or  otherwise,  he  could  not  tell. 

"  Tell  him  I  will  be  down  in  a  few  minutes," 
Anna  said,  rising.  She  took  a  light  and  went  to 
her  own  room,  where  she  re-arranged  her  hair, 
put  on  a  collar,  and  made  some  trifling  alterations 
in  her  dress.  She  lingered  a  few  minutes  after 
this,  to  give  her  feelings,  that  were  more  than 
ordinarily  ruffled,  time  to  calm  down.  Then  she 
descended  to  the  parlour. 

Hartley  had  been  waiting  for  her  in  a  state 
of  nervous  uncertainty.  Upon  the  character 
of  her  reception  of  his  visit,  hung  all  his  hopes. 
If  she  smiled  upon  him,  he  would  be  the  hap- 
piest man  in  existence ;  if  she  repulsed  him  by 
her  manner,  he  would  be  the  most  miserable. 
He  was  in  this  state  of  mind,  when  Anna  came 
in,  and  advancing  towards  him,  offered  her  hand 
with  a  graceful  ease,  and  a  manner  so  frank  and 
warm,  that  the  young  man  took  instant  courage. 
In  a  little  while  they  were  conversing  together, 
perfectly  at  ease,  and  each  interested  in  and 
silently  approving  the  sentiments  uttered  by  the 
other.  When  they  separated,  both  felt  happier 
than  th  2y  had  been  for  weeks.  Why  it  was  so 


WOOED   AND   WON.  147 

With  Anna,  she  hardly  dared  acknowledge  tc  her- 
self. To  Hartley,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned, 
the  matter  was  plain  as  daylight.  He  d^d  not 
suffer  many  days  to  elapse,  before  calling  again. 
To  his  great  delight,  he  was  received  as  kindly 
as  before;  and  even  half-blind  as  he  was  from 
over  modesty  and  bashfulness,  could  see  that 
there  was  something  warmer  in  the  face  and 
eyes  of  the  maiden,  than  expressed  an  ordinary 
friendly  feeling  towards  an  acquaintance.  He 
now  visited  Anna  regularly,  and  was  ever  a  wel- 
come guest. 

On  one  occasion,  after  Hartley  had  paid  close 
attention  to  her  for  two  or  three  months,  there 
was  a  freer  exchange  of  sentiments,  and  the  con- 
versation was  upon  subjects  that  brought  out  from 
both  an  expression  of  the  leading  principles  that 
ought  to  govern  in  the  common  affairs  of  life. 
Hartley  was  pleased  to  find  that  Anna  had  sound 
views  upon  all  the  questions  that  came  up ;  and 
she  was  no  less  gratified  to  perceive  in  him,  as 
she  had  often  before  perceived,  a  basis  of  good 
sense,  a  clearly  discriminating  mind,  and  a  love 
of  truth  for  its  own  sake.  They  had  been  speak- 
ing of  the  beauty  of  moral  excellence,  when  Anna 
remarked,  and  she  did  so  to  see  how  far  his  prin- 
ciples led  him, — 


148  THE   MAIDEN. 

"But  to  come  to  the  real  truth  at  last,  Mr. 
Hartley,  moral  excellence  is  nothing,  if  the  seal 
of  religion  be  wanting." 

Hartley  looked  at  the  maiden,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  In  fact,"  she  resumed,  "  unless  all  our  actions 
are  regulated  by  Divine  laws,  our  morality  has 
but  a  slender  base  to  stand  upon — is,  in  fact, 
only  an  assumed  and  not  a  real  morality,  and 
when  the  storms  of  temptations  arise,  and  the 
floods  beat  against  it,  it  will  fall." 

He  still  remained  a  silent,  but  admiring  listener; 
and  she  went  on. 

"A  man  may  render  civil  obligations  to  his 
country,  because  his  interest  is  involved  in  doing 
BO  ;  and  he  may  act  in  all  the  varied  relations  of 
life  with  external  faultlessness,  and  yet  not  be  in 
heart  a  moral  man,  or  a  good  citizen.  He  may 
obey  the  laws,  because  he  thereby  secures  his 
own  good ;  and  he  may  be  hospitable  and  kind, 
and  generous  from  a  love  of  the  world's  good 
opinion.  But,  if  he  could  believe  that  it  would 
be  more  to  his  interest  to  violate  the  law,  what 
would  hold  him  in  obedience  to  the  law  ?  Or,  if 
he  were  placed  in  circumstances  where  he  could 
not  forfeit  or  gain  the  world's  good  opinion, 
would  he  be  generous  and  hospitable?  But,  if  he 
is  a  good  citizen,  and  a  moral  man  £om  a  rel  - 


WOOED   AND   WON.  14-9 

gious  principle — that  is,  because  civil  laws  and 
moral  laws  are  at  the  same  time  Divine  laws,  can 
even  he  be  tempted  to  break  them  ]  No.  He 
only,  therefore,  who  is  governed  by  religious 
principles,  is,  in  reality  a  good  citizen,  or  a  truly 
moral  man.  Is  it  not  so,  Mr.  Hartley  ?' 

"  Doubtless,  all  you  have  said  is  true,"  returned 
the  young  man.  "  But  who  around  us  is  thus 
governed  by  religious  principles  1" 

"  Many,  I  hope." 

"  Can  you  name  one  ?" 

The  maiden's  cheek  became  slightly  suffused, 
as  she  replied,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 

"  Yes ;  one,  at  least." 

"  Who  is  it." 

"My  father.  .And  it  is  to  him  I  am  indebted 
for  the  light  that  my  own  mind  has  received  on 
so  important  a  subject." 

"  Do  you  not  know  another  ?" 

"  I  do.  My  mother  acts  from  the  same  high 
obligations." 

"  And  you  do  the  same?" 

Hartley  looked  earnestly  into  hw  companion's 
face,  as  he  said  this,  that  not  a  single  varying 
shade  of  its  expression  might  be  lost. 

"  I  try  to  do  so,"  was  the  modestly  spoken 
answer;  "but  I  am  conscious,  every  day,  that  my 
13* 


150  THE   MAIDEN. 

efforts  are  altogether  imperfect.  That  my  cha- 
racter is  not  yet  based  upon  an  ever-abiding  love 
of  the  truth  for  its  own  sake." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  Hartley  re- 
turned, with  a  smile. 

"  Glad  ?"  And  Anna  looked  at  the  young  man 
with  surprise. 

"Yes,  glad.  Like  you,  I  am  struggling  to 
make  the  laws  of  moral  and  civil  life,  one  with 
the  laws  of  Divide  order;  but  my  efforts  are 
imperfect,  and  my  progress  very  slow.  Some- 
times I  seem  not  to  advance  at  all.  Is  not  that 
your  own  experience  ?" 

"  It  is ;  and  I  sometimes  fear  will  ever  be.  If 
I  advance  at  all,  my  progress  is  so  slow  that  I  do 
not  perceive  it.  But  why  should  you  be  glad  at 
my  imperfections  ?" 

Hartley  ventured  to  take  her  hand.  She  yielded 
it  passively.  Looking  steadily  into  her  mild;  blue 
eyes,  he  said, — 

"  Because  I  feared  that  you  were  perfect ;  and 
if  so,  I  should  have  been  without  hope." 

The  eyes  of  the  maiden  fell  suddenly.  A 
ourning  blush  covered  her  whole  face,  yet  she  did 
not  withdraw  the  hand  that  was  held  by  her  com- 
j>anion. 


WOOED   AND   WON.  151 

"  But,  like  myself,  you  are  conscious  of  imper- 
fections— conscious  of  weakuess  and  evil,  and,  like 
myself,  are  struggling  to  rise  aoove  them,"  con- 
tinued Hartley,  tightening  his  hold  upon  the 
small,  soft  hand,  that  lay  so  passively  in  his. 
"  Shall  we  not  help  each  other  to  rise  into  a 
higher  and  better  life  ?  Shall  we  not,  together, 
struggle  with  temptation,  and  together  find  a  Sab- 
bath rest,  when  we  have  conquered  ?" 

Anna  could  not  reply.  But  her  heart  was 
fluttering  with  joy.  She  could  only  let  her  hand 
remain  in  that  of  her  lover;  and  she  did  let  it 
remain,  and  even  returned  his  tight  clasp  with  a 
gentle  pressure. 

When  Hartley  passed  from  the  door  of  Mr. 
Lee's  dwelling,  he  was  bewilderingly  happy. 
Anna  had  consented,  with  her  parent's  approbt- 
*on,  to  accept  his  haiul  in  marriage. 


CHAPTER  XVJIL 

YOUTH  AND  BEAUTY  IN  RUINS. 

DURING  the  time  that  James  Hartley  was  visiting 
Anna,  Mr.  Lee  had  made  very  close  inquiries 
into  his  character  and  habits  of  life.  All  that  he 
heard  was  favourable.  At  first,  even  with  those 
favourable  testimonials  in  regard  to  the  young 
nan,  Mr.  Lee  did  not  feel  satisfied  altogether, 
with  his  attentions  to  Anna.  As  the  reader  has 
seen,  with  all  his  good  sense,  the  father  had  his 
weaknesses.  He  was  proud  of  his  lovely  child, 
and  could  not  help  wishing  to  see  her  the  chosen 
bride,  when  chosen  at  all,  of  one  who  stood  forth 
from  the  mass,  distinguished  in  some  way ;  either 
as  a  man  of  wealth  and  rank,  or  with  a  brilliant 
reputation  in  some  profession. 

But  the  lesson  he  had  received  in  the  case  of 
Gardiner  was  a  salutary  one — it  rebuked  his  fond 
pride,  and  made  him  willing  to  consent  for  Anna 
to  wed  even  obscurely,  so  that  in  the  man  of  her 
choice,  both  the  heart  and  the  head  were  right. 

When,  therefore,  Hartley  made  a  formal  pro- 
posal for  the  hand  of  Anna,  Mr.  Lee  gave  his  free 

(152) 


YOUTH  AND  BEAUTY  IN  RUINS.  153 

consent,  although  he  could  not  help  a  feeling  of 
reluctance  in  doing  so.  To  Hartley  he  could  find 
no  valid  objection ;  only,  he  was  an  ordinary  man, 
in  the  common  walks  of  life. 

From  the  time  of  the  engagement  until  the 
wedding-day,  nothing  of  interest  to  the  reader 
transpired.  The  more  frequently  Anna  saw,  and 
the  better  she  knew  her  betrothed,  the  more 
thankful  did  she  feel  that  her  young  heart  had 
been  won  by  a  man  of  such  pure  and  high  prin- 
ciples. By  one  who  could  not  only  see  what  was 
true,  but  who  had  the  strength  of  mind  to  act 
ever  according  to  its  dictates.  Mr.  Lee  also  es- 
teemed the  young  man  more  and  more,  the  oftener 
he  met  him,  and  the  more  closely  he  scrutinized 
his  character ;  and  long  before  the  wedding-day 
arrived,  his  heart  consented  to  the  union  as  freely 
as  did  his  head — his  will  approved  as  well  as  hia 
understanding. 

After  .the  exciting  occurrence  which  took  place 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  Armitage,  Florence  was  a 
very  different  being  from  what  she  was  before. 
She  had  stood,  frightened,  on  the  brink  of  a  terri- 
ble precipice,  just  ready  to  plunge  into  the  awful 
abyss  below,  and  had  been  saved  at  the  moment 
when  hope  was  pluming  her  wings  to  depart. 
She  went  abroad  but  rarely,  and  when  in  com- 


15-1  THE   MAIDEN. 

pany,  was  modest  and  retiring.  A  large  portion 
of  her  time  was  spent  with  Anna,  from  whose 
precepts  and  example  she  learned  to  think  and 
•feel  more  as  one  just  entering  upon  the  untried 
and  unknown  scenes  of  life  should  think  and  feel. 
She  learned  to  think  of  marriage  more  justly ;  to 
esteem  it  the  most  important  act  of  a  woman's 
life,  and  as  involving  the  most  important  results. 

Like  Anna's  father,  Florence  did  not  at  first 
feel  reconciled  to  the  choice  she  had  made.  But 
the  oftener  she  met  Hartley,  and  the  more  closely 
she  compared  him  with  the  newer  and  truer  stan- 
dards that  were  forming  in  her  mind,  the  more 
fully  did  she  become  satisfied  that  Anna  had  cho- 
sen with  a  wise  discrimination. 

To  the  unfortunate  being  who  had,  in  the  wild 
anguish  of  a  wounded  and  crushed  spirit,  stepped 
forward  from  her  guilty  obscurity,  and  saved  her 
from  the  ruin  of  all  life's  best  hopes,  Florence  felt 
deeply  grateful.  After  the  over-excited  feelings 
of  Grace  Leary  had  suddenly  subsided  in  uncon- 
sciousness, she  was  removed  to  another  chamber, 
placed  in  bed,  and  every  effort  made  to  restore 
her  to  animation.  It  was  sad  to  look  upon  the 
white,  sunken  face  of  the  death-like  sleeper,  and 
to  think  of  all  she  had  suffered  —  of  the  vine- 
wreathed  bower  of  virtue  that  she  had  forsaken,  for 


YOUTH  AND  CEAUTY,  IN  RUINS.  155 

the  vile  haunts  of  sin  and  deep  pollution.  To- 
wards her  betrayer,  there  was  but  one  feeling — 
that  of  the  deepest  execration.  Many  hours 
passed  before  the  girl  awoke  from  the  deep  swoon 
into  which  she  had  fallen,  during  which  time 
Anna  Lee,  who  had  known  her  and  loved  her  in 
earlier  days,  sat  anxiously  watching  by  her  side. 
Perhaps  those  few  hours  were  the  saddest  of  An 
na's  whole  life.  She  had  never  seen  such  a  wreck 
before — the  wreck  of  youth,  beauty,  and  inno- 
cence. She  had  heard  of  such  things,  and  had 
shuddered  at  the  bare  imagination;  but  here  lay, 
pale,  and  insensible  before  her,  one  whom  she 
had  loved, — one  by  whose  side  she  had  often  sat, 
and  whose  slender  arms  had  often  been  entwined 
about  her  neck— one  who  had  left  the  flowery 
path  of  honour  and  virtue,  and  been  a  wanderer 
in  the  dark  valley  of  sin. 

She  was  alone  by  the  bed  upon  which  Grace 
lay,  with  her  head  bent  partly  from  her,  when 
a  low  sigh  aroused  her  to  consciousness.  She 
turned  quickly.  The  eyes  of  Grace  were  fixed 
intently  upon  her.  But  they  soon  closed  with  a 
languid  motion,  and  the  whole  face  of  the  wretched 
girf  became  marked  by  strong  lines  of  anguish. 
Anna  arose  and  leaned  over  her,  and  in  a  tender 
voice  called  her  name.  But  there  was  no  answer. 


156  THE    MAIDEM 

Her  lips  did,  indeed,  move  convulsively,  as  if  she 
were  about  to  speak ;  but  in  an  instant  they  were 
firmly  compressed,  and  her  head  turned  away. 

No  words  of  kindness  from  Anna,  nor  from  any 
who  approached  her,  could  induce  the  girl  to 
make  a  reply.  She  seemed  to  be  in  great  mental 
suffering,  for  her  lips  remained  strongly  shut  to- 
gether, and  her  brows  corrugated ;  and  once, 
when  Anna  went  to  take  her  hand,  she  found  the 
fingers  tightly  clenched. 

Finding  all  efforts  to  get  her  to  speak  unavail- 
ing, she  was  left  alone,  in  the  hope  that  sleep 
would  tranquilize  her  mind,  and  soften  her  feel- 
ings. But  when  her  chamber  was  entered  on  the 
morning,  it  was  found  vacant.  The  unhappy  girl 
had  fled  from  virtue's  rebuking  presence. 


THAPTEK  XIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

wedding-day  quickly  came.  To  her  it 
brought  mingled  feelings  of  pleasure  and  sadness. 
The  maiden  was  about  to  take  upon  herself  a  wife's 
duties, — to  enter  upon  an  untried  sphere  of  action. 
To  step  from  the  peaceful  happy  home  of  her 
father,  into  the  dwelling  of  a  husband.  To  begin 
a  new  life  of  deeper  and  more  varied  emotions. 

Towards  her  mother,  whom  she  was  about  to 
leave,  she  felt  an  unusual  tenderness;  for  she 
realized,  in  her  own  mind,  how  lonely  that  mother 
would  be  when  she  was  away ;  and  there  were 
moments  when,  from  this  reason,  she  half-regretted 
having  named  so  early  a  wedding-day.  Then  her 
thoughts  would  turn  to  the  children  over  whom 
her  care  had  been  exercised,  ever  since  they  were 
babes  in  their  mother's  arms.  She  loved  them 
truly — how  could  she  leave  them  ?  Who  could 
fill  to  them  her  place  ?  Such  thoughts  would  at 
times  throw  a  deeply  pensive  shade  over  IHT 
feelings.  But  the  intense  love  she  bore  the 
14  UM) 


158  THE    MAIDEN. 

chosen  of  her  heart,  would  carry  away  her  mind 
to  him,  and  she  would  muse  with  delight  over 
the  thought  of  becoming  one  with  him  in  mar- 
riage. 

Thus  passed  the  day,  amid  preparations  for 
the  ceremonies  that  were  to  take  place  in  the 
evening.  Anna  was  musing  alone  in  her  room 
just  before  nightfall,  when  her  mother  came  in, 
and  sitting  down  beside  her,  took  her  hand  and 
warmly  pressed  it  within  her  own.  As  she  did  so, 
the  maiden  leaned  over  against  her,  and  let  her 
head  rest  upon  the  bosom  that  had  so  often  before 
pillowed  it,  looking  up  as  she  did  so,  into  her 
mother's  face  with  eyes  swimming  in  tears  of  pure 
filial  love. 

"  You  are  about  to  leave  us,  my  dear  child," 
Mrs.  Lee  said,  in  a  voice  half  inaudible  from 
emotion ;  and  then  paused  to  get  a  better  command 
of  her  feelings.  Anna  closed  her  eyes  to  keep  the 
tears  from  stealing  over  her  face. 

"  You  are  about  to  leave  us,  Anna,"  resumed 
Mrs. Lee,  " and  I  pray, that  you  maybe  as  good  a 
wife  as  you  have  been  a  daughter.  I  am  sure  you 
will.  It  is  hard  to  part  with  you,  my  child; 
very  hard;  but  it  is  right  that  you  should  go. 
You  are  a  woman,  and  must  act  a  woman's  part. 
Act  it  well,  and  you  will  be  a  blessing  to  all.  I 


CONCLUSION.  159 

believe  the  man  who  has.  chosen  you  to  be  his 
companion  through  the  journey  of  life,  is  worthy 
to  claim  your  hand.  I  believe  he  will  do  all  in 
his  power  to  make  you  happy.  Strive  to  do  your 
part  fully.  Above  all,  look  upon  marriage  as  a 
divine  institution,  as  an  ordinance  of  the  church. 
In  making  your  vows,  do  so,  consciously,  in  the 
sight  of  heaven,  and  fulfil  those  vows  as  a  solemn 
religious  obligation. 

"  When  you  have  become  a  wife,  you  will  find 
yourself  in  a  new  world,  with  new  thoughts  and 
feelings,  and  altogether  new  relations.  And  you 
may  not  find  your  duties  in  that  new  world  so 
simple,  nor  so  easily  performed  as  you  have  ima- 
gined. It  is  no  light  matter  for  two  minds,  bearing 
the  relation  that  the  masculine  and  feminine 
minds  bear  to  each  other,  to  enter  upon  the  pro- 
cess of  unition ;  for  one  end  of  marriage  is  to 
cause  two  minds  that  are  imperfect  in  separation, 
to  unite  and  make  one  truly  perfect  man.  If  the 
human  race  had  not  fallen  from  the  true  order  in 
which  they  were  created,  this  union  would  be  an 
easy  and  delightful  task;  but  now  it  can  only  take 
place  in  the  degree  that  there  is  a  mutual  restora- 
tion to  true  order,  in  the  minds  of  the  husband 
and  wife.  Just  in  the  degree  that  each  remains 
selfish,  and  thus  in  evil  principles,  will  be  the 


IbO  THE   MAIDEN. 

difficulties  and  obstructions  fn  the  way  of  this 
union ;  and  the  consequent  unhappiness  that  will 
follow  marriage. 

"Your  true  duty,  my  dear  child,  will  be  to 
strive  to  remove  from  your  own  heart  all  that  is 
contrary  to  divine  laws,  and  to  help  your  husband 
to  do  the  same.  Just  so  far  as  you  do  this,  will 
you  be  happy,  no  matter  what  may  be  the  exter- 
nal circumstances  in  which  Providence  may  place 
you. 

"  But  this  work  must  be  a  gradual  one,  both 
with  yourself  and  husband :  and,  therefore,  in  the 
very  nature  of  things,  there  will  arise  states  of 
mind  in  conflict  with  each  other.  You  will  feel, 
sometimes,  like  setting  up  your  will  against  that 
of  your  husband,  and  he  will  be  led  into  the  same 
temptation.  When  this  happens,  Oh !  remember, 
my  child,  that  forbearance  and  submission  will  be 
your  only  safe  course.  Do  not  listen  a  moment 
to  the  suggestions  of  pride.  But  be  patient  and 
yielding ;  by  so  doing,  you  will  help  both  your 
husband  and  yourself.  You  will  elevate  him  into 
a  purer  region,  where  his  vision  will  be  clearer, 
and  you  will  yourself  come  into  tfiat  region. 

"And  now,  what  more  shall  I  say  to  you? 
How  shall  I  rightly  prepare  you  for  your  new 
duties?  How  shall  I  guard  you.  more  than  by 


CONCLUSION.  161 

the  general  precept,  to  shun  all  evil  as  a  sin 
against  God,  and  because  it  is  a  sin  ?  If  you  do 
this,  it  will  be  well  with  you.  The  path  of  duty 
will  be  an  easy  path,— the  way  of  life  smooth. 

"I  give  you  away  to  your  husband,  with  a  con- 
fidence that  few  mothers  can  feel.  You  must, 
you  will  be  happy  in  his  love,  for  he  is  worthy 
of  you.  Oh !  believe  that  you  can  never  be  more 
than  worthy  of  the  love  of  such  a  man  as  Jarrei 
Hartley.  Cherish  the  deep  affection  he  has  for 
you  with  the  tenrtevsst  care ;  for  a  heart  like  his 
is  a  rare  jewel — it  is  priceless  in  value." 

Anna  lay  close  to  her  mother's  breast,  and  quiet 
as  an  infant. 

More,  much  more  of  earnest  precept  was  poured 
into  her  ear,  to  all  of  which  the  maiden  listened 
with  the  most  profound  attention.  Mrs.  Lee  lifted 
the  veil  for  her  child,  and  gave  her  new  views  of 
the  marriage  relation,  and  of  her  duties  in  it: 
when  that  child  descended  to  the  crowded  rooms 
below,  some  hours  afterwards,  and  plighted  her 
faith  before  God  and  man,  it  was  with  sober  f- .  1- 
ings,  and  a  strong  internal  resolution  to  act  the 
wife's  part  truly,  difficult  as  the  task  might  be  to 
perform. 

Shall  we  say  more?  What  more  remains  to  be 
•aid  ?  Anna  Lee,  the  pure-hearted  Anna  Lee  is 
14* 


162  THE   MAIDEN. 

married  to  the  man  of  her  choice.  She  has  passed 
safely  through  the  perils  of  maidenhood,  and  is 
now  a  wife — and  a  wife  wisely  wedded. 

But  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  her.  As  a  "  Wife," 
we  will  still  follow  her,  and  see  how,  in  her  new 
relations,  she  sustains  the  harmonious  consistency 
of  character  that  made  her  so  lovely  as  a  maiden, 
and  blessed  all  who  came  within  the  sphere  of 
her  influence. 


THE  ENR 


CATALOGUE 

or 

VALUABLE  AND  INTERESTING  WORKS, 

PUBLISHED   AND   SOLD  BY 

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They  are  printed  on  fine  white  paper,  and  bound  in 
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him  they  talk  withal,"  by  a  correct  likeness  of  the  author,  finely 
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Ill  the  princely  mansions  of  the  Atlantic  merchants,  and  in  the 
rnde  log-cabins  of  the  backwoodsmen,  the  name  of  Arthur  is 
equally  known  and  cherished  as  the  friend  of  virtue. — Graham's 
Magazine. 

We  would  not  exchange  our  copy  of  these  sketches,  with  its 
story  of  "  The  Methodist  Preacher,"  for  any  one  of  the  gilt-edged 
and  embossed  annuals  which  we  have  yet  seen. — Lady's  National 
Magazine. 

The  first  story  in  the  volume,  entitled  "The  Methodist  Preacher, 
or  Lights  and  Shadows  in  the  Life  of  an  Itinerant,"  is  alone 
worth  the  price  of  the  work. — Evening  Bulletin. 

It  is  emphatically  a  splendid  work. — Middletown  Whig. 

Its  worth  and  cheapness  should  place  it  in  every  person's  hands 
who  desire  to  read  an  interesting  book. — Odd  Fellow,  Boonsboro'. 

"The  Methodist  Preacher,"  "Seed-Time  and  Harvest,"  "Dyed 
hrthe  Wool,"  are  full  of  truth  as  well  as  instruction,  and  any  one 
of  them  is  worth  the  whole  price  of  the  volume. — Lowell  Day- 
star,  Rev.  D.  C.  Eddy,  Editor. 

There  is  a  fascination  about  these  sketches  which  so  powerfully 
interests  the  reader,  that  few  who  commence  -one  of  them  will 
part  with  it  till  it  is  concluded;  and  they  will  bear  reading  re- 
peatedly.— Norfolk  and  Portsmouth  Herald. 

Those  who  have  not  perused  these  model  stories  have  a  rich 
feast  in  waiting,  and  we  shall  be  happy  if  we  can  be  instrumental 
in  pointing  them  to  it. — Family  Visitor,  Madison,  Geo. 

No  library  for  family  reading  should  be  considered  complete 
without  this  volume,  which  is  as  lively  and  entertaining  in  its 
character  as  it  is  salutary  in  its  influence. — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

The  work  is  beautifully  illustrated.  Those  who  are  at  all  ac- 
quainted with  Arthur's  writings  need  hardly  be  told  that  the  pre- 
sent work  is  a  prize  to  whoever  possesses  it. — N.  Y.  Sun. 

We  know  no  better  book  for  the  table  of  any  family,  whether 
regarded  for  its  neat  exterior  or  valuable  contents. —  Vox  Poptdi, 
Lowell. 

The  name  of  the  author  is  in  itself  a  sufficient  recommenda- 
tion of  the  work. — Lawrence  Sentinel. 

T.  S.  Arthur  is  one  of  the  best  literary  writers  of  the  age.— 
Watchman,   CircleviUe,  Ohio. 
The  name  alone  of  the  author  is  a  sufficient  guaranty  to  the 


reading  public  of  its  surpassing  merit.—  The  Argui,  Gallatin, 
Jaiss. 

Probably  he  has  not  written  a  line  which,  dying,  he  could  wish 
to  erase. — Parkersburg,  (  Fa.)  Gazette. 

LIGHTS    AND  SHADOWS   OF  REAL   LIFE, 

•with  an  autobiography  and  portrait  of  the  author,  over  500 
pages  octavo,  with  fine  tinted  engravings.    $2.00. 

NOTICES    OP    THE    PRESS. 

In  this  volume  may  be  found  a  "moral  suasion,"  which  cannot 
but  affect  for  good  all  who  read.  The  mechanical  execution  of 
the  work  is  very  beautiful  throughout. — New  Haven  Palladium. 

It  is  by  far  the  most  valuable  book  ever  published  of  his 
works,  inasmuch  as  it  is  enriched  with  a  very  interesting,  though 
brief  autobiography. — American  Courier. 

No  family  library  is  complete  without  a  copy  of  this  book. — 
Seotfa  Weekly  Paper. 

No  better  or  worthier  present  could  be  made  to  the  young;  no 
offering  more  pure,  charitable,  and  practicable  could  be  tendered 
to  those  who  are  interested  in  the  truly  benevolent  reforms  of  the 
day. — Godey's  Lady's  Book. 

The  paper,  the  engravings,  the  bindinjr,  and  the  literary  con- 
tents, are  all  calculated  to  make  it  a  •favourite. — Penii.  /»  , 

This  volume  cannot  be  too  highly  recommended.— Jf.  Y.  Tri- 
bune. 

More  good  has  been  effected,  than  by  any  other  single  medium 
that  we  know  of. — A".  Y.  .V"». 

The  work  should  be  upon  the  centre-table  of.  every  parent  in 
the  land. — National  Temperance  Magazine. 

LEAVES  FROM  THE  BOOK  OF  HUMAN  1 

Large  12mo.    328   pages.    With  30   illustration!  and  »t««l 
plate.     $1.00. 

NOTICES   OP  THE   PRK8H. 

A  single  story  is  worth  the  price  charged  for  the  book.-  ' 
Newburyport,  Mast. 


GOLDEN  GRAINS  FROM  LIFE'S  HARVEST- 

FIELD,  bound  in  full  gilt,  with  a  beautiful  mezzotint  engrav- 
ing. 12mo.  240  pages.  75  cts. 

ITOTICES    OF  THE   PRESS. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  the  Golden  Grains  here  pre- 
sented to  the  reader,  are  such  as  will  be  productive  of  a  far 
greater  amount  of  human  happiness  than  those  in  search  of  which 
so  many  are  willing  to  risk  domestic  peace,  health,  and  even  life 
it-self,  in  a  distant  and  inhospitable  region. 

These  narratives,  like  all  of  those  which  proceed  from  the  same 
able  pen,  are  remarkable  not  only  for  their  entertaining  and 
lively  pictures  of  actual  life,  but  for  their  admirable  moral  ten- 
dency. 

It  is  printed  in  excellent  style,  and  embellished  with  a  mezzo- 
tint engraving.  We  cordially  recommend  it  to  the  favour  of  our 
readers. — Godey's  Lady's  Magazine. 

TEN  NIGHTS  IN  A  BAR  ROOM,  AND  WHAT  I 

SAW  THERE.  This  powerfully  written  work,  the  last  and 
best  by  its  popular  Author,  is  meeting  with  immense  sales, — 
ten  thousand  copies  having  been  ordered  within  a  month  of 
publication.  Young  men  wishing  to  do  good,  and  at  the  same 
time  make  money,  will  find  a  rare  chance  in  selling  this  book. 
It  is  a  large  12mo,  of  240  pages,  illustrated  with  a  beautiful 
mezzotint  engraving,  by  Sartain ;  printed  on  fine  white  pa- 
per, and  bound  in  the  best  English  muslin,  gilt  back,  and  sold 
at  75  cents.  In  extra  full  gilt  edge,  back  and  sides,  $1.00. 

THE  FOLLOWING  ARE  A  FEW  OF  THE  MANY  NOTICES  OF  THE  PBBS9  : 

This  is  a  temperance  volume,  written  in  the  author's  plain, 
heart-searching  style. — Dollar  Newspaper. 

This  volume  is  the  last  of  those  admirable  temperance  tales,  by 
which  the  author  is  doing  and  has  done  so  much  good. — Evening 
JBultetin. 

Powerful  and  seasonable. — N.  Y.  Independent. 


Its  scenes  are  painfully  graphic,  and  furnish  thrilling  wm- 
menta  for  the  temperance  cause.— Norton's  Lit.  Gazette. 

Written  in  the  author's  most  forcible  and  vigorous  style  — 
Lehigh  VaL  Times. 

In  the  "  Ten  Nights  in  a  Bar-room,"  some  of  the  consequences 
of  tavern-keeping,  the  "sowing  of  the  wind"  and  "reaping  the 
whirlwind"  are  followed  by  a  "  fearful  consummation,"  and  the 
"closing  scene,"  presenting  pictures  of  fearful,  thrilling  interest. 
One  touching  passage  supplies  the  beautiful  mezzotint  illustra- 
tions by  Sartain. — Am.  Courier. 

The  sketches  are  powerfully  written,  to  show  the  downward 
career  of  the  tempter  and  the  tempted,  and  the  inevitable  ruin 
which  must  follow.  There  is  no  exaggeration  in  these  pages — 
they  seem  to  have  been  filled  up  from  actual  observation.  Mr. 
Arthur  has  given  efficient  aid  to  the  cause  of  reform  by  these  in- 
tensely interesting  sketches,  and  we  predict  for  them* an  exten- 
sive sale. — Philadelphia  Sun. 

The  exciting  influences  of  the  wine  cup,  its  consequent  respon- 
sibility, and  the  inevitable  results  accruing  from  a  free  indulgence 
in  the  intoxicating  draught,  are  not  only  truthfully,  but  rividly 
portrayed  in  the  author's  best  style. — Daily  Newt. 

This  is  a  strong  temperance  book,  from  the  prolific  pen  of  » 
popular  writer. —  U.  S.  Journal. 

We  are  glad  to  see  Mr.  Arthur  again  in  the  temperance  field. 
He  has  long  been  one  of  our  best  writers. — Journal  Am.  Te*. 
Union. 

Arthur's  tales  usually  bear  a  character  of  simplicity  and  truth- 
fulness possessing  strong  attractions  for  the  generality  of  readers, 
and  especially  for  those  in  the  daily  enjoyment  of  country  life. 
He  seldom  seems  to  study  for  effect,  except  it  be  in  closely  por- 
traying real  life.  In  these  aspects  the  work  before  lu  U  e^ni- 
nontly  successful. — A".  Y.  Sun. 

The  book  exhibits  many  of  the  horrors  of  bar-room  life,  with- 
out however  being  defaced  by  some  of  its  most  disgusting  pro- 
fanities and  brutalities.— Saturday  Evening  Putt. 

We  have  read  it  with  the  most  intense  interest,  and  commend 
it  as  a  work  calculated  to  do  an  immense  amount  of  go<xL-J 
tauter  Exprets. 


6 

"We  have  given  this  excellent  work  a  careful  perusal,  and  un- 
hesitatingly recommend  it  to  all  lovers  of  good  reading.  It  illus- 
trates rum-drinking  so  truthfully,  that  the  most  skeptical  must 
confess  that  the  truth  is  not  exflggerated.  We  wish  that  all 
lovers  of  bar-rooms  and  mm  would  read  the  book.  It  will  pay 
them  richly  to  do  so. — N.  Y.  Northern  Blade, 

It  is  sufficient  commendation  of  this  little  volume  to  say  that  it 
is  from  the  graphic  pen  of  T.  S.  Arthur,-  whose  works  will  be  read 
and  re-read  long  after  he  has  passed  away.  He  is  as  true  to  na- 
ture, as  far  as  he  attempts  to  explore  it,  as  Shakspeare  himself, 
and  his  works,  consequently,  have  an  immense  popularity.  The 
best  of  all  is,  that  his  writings  tend  to  make  men  better  aa  well 
as  wiser.  This  little  volume  is  a  thrilling  temperance  story, 
showing  the  progress  from  temptation  to  utter  ruin,  and  the 
remedies  for  the  evils  set  forth.  The  volume  is  beautifully  printed 
and  bound. — New  Haven  Palladium. 

It  is  one  of  the  tales  of  an  author  who  has  no  superior  in  the 
country  in  developing  the  different  passions  of  the  human  heart — 
New  Haven  Jour.  &  Courier. 

There  are  many  scenes  unequalled  for  pathos  and  beauty,  and 
many,  too,  which  are  painful  in  their  sharply-defined  outlines  of 
horror  and  profanity.  The  death  of  little  Mary  can  scarcely  be 
surpassed,  while  the  closing  pages  of  the  book,  picturing  the 
downfall  of  the  tavern,  amid  the  wreck  of  worldly  hopes  and  the 
ruin  of  every  thing  that  makes  life  worth  the  living  for,  a  dark 
climax  of  vice  and  unrestrained  indulgence,  in  their  sad  and 
necessary  results,  are  too  gloomy  and  too  painfully  real  for  com- 
nient. — JV.  Y.  Home  Journal. 

This  is  the  title  of  a  new  temperance  tale  by  T.  S.  Arthur,  wb- 
has  lieen  very  successful  in  works  of  this  kind.  His  pictures  are 
vividly  drawn,  and  his  sketches  of  thrilling  interest — Newark 
(%.  «/.)  Eagle. 

A  new  temperance  volume,  which' displays  the  dark  sides  of 
bar-room  life,  and  the  general  intent  is  to  favour  the  passage  of  a 
prohibitory  law. — Newark  (N.  J.)  Advertiser. 


THE  FIRESIDE  ANGEL.     64  pages,  32mo,  with 

au  engraving.     Bound  in  muslin,  gilt  edges.    25  cento. 


MORAL  TALES  FOR  THE  PEOPLE. 


VOL.  I. 


A  STORY  FOR  MY  YOUNG  COUNTRYWOMEN. 

YOL.  n. 

TME    WIl'l. 

A  STORY  FOR  MY  YOUNG  COUNTRYWOMEN. 

VOL.  III. 


A  STORY  FOR  MY  YOUNG  COUNTRYWOMEN. 

VOL.  IV. 

KUBBXE3)  AHD   fUBOU; 

OR,  MARRIAGE  ANB  CELIBACY  CONTRASTED. 

IN  A  SEBIES  OF  LOMESnC  PICTUBES. 


8 

YOL.  Y. 


A  STORY  OF  MARRIED  LIFE. 


YOL.  VL 


OB,  BEFORE  AND  AFTER  MARRIAGE. 


YOL.  vn. 


OR,  THE  RUNAWAY  MATCH. 


OR,  THE   JNBiSCRETJON. 


YOL.  VIII. 


AN  AMERICAN  STORY  OF  REAL  LIFE. 


9 

VOL.  IX. 


OR  A  DAUGHTER'S  LOVE  AND  OTHER  TALES. 


VOL.  X. 


VOL.  XL 

win. 


OR,  TWO  ERAS  IN  MY  LIFE 


10 

VOL.  XII. 


OR,  THE  PALACE  AND  THE  POOR  HOUSE. 

A  Bomance  of  Beal  Life. 


WHICH  MAKES  THE 'LADY. 


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11 


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2 


14 
,REAT  EVENTS  IN  MODERN  HISTORY.  Com- 

prising  the  tnost  remarkable  discoveries,  conquests,  revolu- 
tions, great  battles,  and  other  thrilling  incidents,  chiefly  in 
Europe  and  America,  from  the  commencement  of  the  six- 
teenth century  to  the  present  time.  Embellished  with  over 
500  engravings  by  W.  CROOME,  and  other  eminent  artUtd. 
$3.00. 

NOTICES    OP   THE     PRESS. 

"We  have  here,  within  the  compass  of  eight  hundred  pages,  the 
history  of  those  events  of  modern  history  which  have  been  •  big 
with  mighty  consequences,'  and  with  which,  therefore,  all  men 
should  become  acquainted.  Beginning  with  the  discovery  of 
America  by  Columbus — that  new  starting-point  of  civilization — 
the  work  proceeds  through  the  history  of  the  various  European 
nations,  culling  those  great  periods  when,  either  by  wars  or  revo- 
lutions, each  nation. began  to  occupy  a  conspicuous  place  in  the 
general  estimation  of  men,  and  to  make  its  influence  felt  by  those 
without  its  limits.  The  late  revolutions  in  Europe,  the  Mexican 
war,  and  the  gold  discoveries  in  California,  are  rapidly  and  vividly 
sketched.  The  illustrations,  principally  from  designs  by  Croome, 
are  numerous,  well  executed,  serving  to  impress  the  striking 
scenes  and  characters  of  history  upon  the  tablet  of  memory.  The 
whole  work,  in  design  and  execution,  reflects  great  credit  upon 
all  .concerned  in  its  production." 


THRILLING  ADVENTURES  AMONG  THE  IN- 

DIAN§.  Comprising  the  most  remarkable  personal  narra- 
tives of  events  in  the  early  Indian  wars,  as  well  as  of  inci- 
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NOTICES    OF    THE    PRESS. 

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gives  a  charm  to  romance  may  be  found  in  the  narrative  contained 
in  this  work,  but  all  of  them  possess  the  never-failing  attractions 
of  truth.  The  sufferings  of  numerous  captives  are  also  detailed, 
together  with  their  contrivances  of  escape  from  their  savage  cap- 
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PANORAMA  OF  THE  OLD  WORLD  AND  THE 

NEW.  Comprising  a  view  of  the  present  state  of  the  nations 
of  the  world,  their  names,  customs,  and  peculiarities,  and 
their  political,  moral,  social,  and  industrial  condition.  Inter- 
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PINNOCK,  author  of  thfe  history  of  England,  Greece,  and 
Rome.  Enlarged,  revised,  and  embellished  with  several 
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enib.  mor.,  gilt  back.  $2.75. 

INDIA  AND  ITS  INHABITANTS.    By  CALEB 

WRIGHT,  A.M.  The  author  visited  India,  and  travelled  ex- 
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formation contained  in  this  volume.  Illustrated  by  numer- 
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SCRIPTURE  EMBLEMS  AND  ALLEGORIES. 

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16 

PAGANISM,  POPERY,  AND  CHRISTIANITY ; 

OR,  THE  BLESSINGS  OF  AN  OPEN  BIBLE  :  as  shown  in  the  his- 
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in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  in  Tuscany,  Madeira,  in  Ireland, 
France,  Ac.,  and  an  expose  of  the  absurdities  of  the  Imma- 
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